Hundred Days
by ExecutiveShrimp
Summary: Oneshot sequel to "Thousand Words", 2x1, AU: After a summer apart, Duo and Heero are finally together again, but is simply being together enough to make them happy? [angst, romance, first-world-problems and 'the good stuff']


**This oneshot is a sequel/epilogue to "Thousand Words", but I suppose it can be read as a stand-alone story without much confusion.**

 **Author's note: This story was supposed to be short and sweet but got completely out of hand! It's over 36.000 words long and it's pretty much the Executive-shrimp-trifecta in the sense that it is porny, angsty and fluffy AF. I hope you'll enjoy this read, please let me know! You may not know this, but every time someone leaves a review, a gay angels gets his wings (and then helps me write more gay porn, because: priorities).**

* * *

 **WARNING: I wasn't lying. This story is very porny (an abundance of descriptive, sexual content). If that is not your style, please leave this story to those who do enjoy it. However, my intention is never to offend anyone, so if you read this and you find it offensive and a violation of the FF agreement, please just let me know and I will remove the story from this site and upload it somewhere more appropriate.**

* * *

 **Beta: Shima Yi. A huge thanks to Shima Yi for beta-ing this monster story in only a couple of days!**

* * *

 _ **Hundred days**_

The phone rang, counting down my patience. The higher the number climbed, the more my nostrils flared as I waited for him to answer. Inside the dark and cooling microwave, my mac-and-cheese was going to waste.

 _Five… six… seven… eight… ni-_

"…" He cleared his throat. " _Hello?_ "

"A fucking email?!" I tore right into him, not caring that he was clearly groggy with sleep. "I get a fucking email?!"

" _Duo,"_ my boyfriend accurately concluded. He sighed but then his resignation turned into indignation. _"Do you have any idea what time it is?"_

"It's clobbering time, that's what time it is!" I seethed. "I come home from my shift at the bar, boot up my laptop to watch something stupid on Youtube while I eat my midnight dinner – _shit_!" I turned in my seat and cast a look over my shoulder at the kitchen. It didn't matter – I had lost my appetite anyway. "— and I see I have an email – an _email_!" I wanted him to acknowledge how fucking stupid it was that he decided to break the news to me through an email. The formal nature of it was upsetting, like I was a colleague being blown off. "Why didn't you call to tell me this shit?"

" _Because I knew you'd be angry,"_ he defended his choice of action petulantly.

"For future reference: knowing that what you have to say will upset me is _precisely_ the reason why you should call to tell me, _not_ say it in a goddamn email."

" _I'm sorry,"_ he mewled pathetically. I heard the rustle of sheets and the soft sigh as he lay back down in bed.

My anger deflated. I wanted to stay angry with him, but I could never manage. He had a way of disarming me, even through just the silence over the phone. I stared at the screen of my laptop, at the single-line email from his work-address. I read it again and again, as if I hadn't already been through that process of denial before I even got heated enough to pick up the phone and call Heero at four in the morning. The text didn't change and I didn't misread it. It was a roller coaster of disappointment all over again. " _Again_?" I whined.

He was silent for a while, perhaps to yawn or tiredly rub his eyes. Heero was in the Pacific time zone, three hours behind, but it was still too late to be calling him on a Thursday. _"Again."_

"Goddammit, Heero."

" _You canceled last time,"_ he was quick to remind me.

"Yeah and I remember you being pretty pissed at me. Fuck," I groaned and sat back in the desk chair. "I was pissed at myself."

" _It couldn't be helped, just like it can't be helped this time. I have work. You have classes."_

"How can you be so calm about this?"

" _I wasn't – not at first."_

I demanded to know: "How long have you known?"

" _Kovalyov broke the news to us Monday,"_ he admitted miserably.

"Jesus. Anything else you're not telling me?" I bit.

" _That I miss you so much it hurts?"_

A bittersweet smile appeared on my lips. His voice sounded so good, even if it was a little different over the phone. It was still smooth and deep. Maybe it was because of the little anonymity and privacy that a phone call allowed, but I noticed over the summer that he was more open and easily talked about the things that made him very self-conscious not too long ago. I felt like he told me everything, like – even though we were States apart – we were somehow closer and there were no secrets between us to widen the distance between Columbus and Seattle.

Apparently I had been wrong, but I knew it wasn't a malicious secret; it upset him just as much as it did me and he wanted to spare us both. I yearned to feel him again: feast upon the sight and the taste of him; have him lean his head against my shoulder; hear him breathe softly as he slept; watch him get dressed in the early mornings for his daily seven-mile run.

I missed him so much and every time our planned weekend fell through, I missed him that much more. "I love you, baby."

" _I love you too,"_ he whispered.

"You know what this means, right?" I started forlornly.

" _Hm?"_

"We haven't seen each other since graduation, and we won't see each other until I finish up here mid-October and fly out there."

Heero had decided to take professor Kovalyov's offer to join his research and development team in Seattle; that meant he had to leave for Seattle mere hours after the graduation ceremony in July. wanted to go with him – my first summer class at the Columbus Institute of the Arts didn't start until five days later – but there was still a lot to arrange and we would only distract each other. Besides, Heero worried it would be even harder to part ways if I first joined him in Seattle for a few days; in hindsight he was probably right. I probably wouldn't have been able to tear myself away from him. So, I stayed behind and eventually headed to Columbus for the summer course.

We had planned for me to fly out to Seattle every other weekend, but something always got in the way, Heero's schedule mostly. There was a lot of pressure on him to prove himself as a valuable asset to the team – since he was a recent graduate amongst seasoned colleagues – and Kovalyov kept them busy.

My own workload wasn't easy to juggle either. The summer course was very intensive, and I appreciated that. I wanted to learn as much as possible, seeing as I never got the chance to study art for four years, which was what I wanted. I eagerly and naively took on extra assignments and the professors were happy to help me, enthused by my motivation and drive. They made an effort to accommodate meetings with me in their schedule and in turn, I had to adjust my own plans to suit their time.

I had to cancel twice. Heero had to cancel every other time. It was a strain on our long-distance relationship, but we accepted that we were both where we needed to be at that time, and we couldn't expect the other to give up something that was so important for a single weekend.

Once, I booked an impromptu flight to Seattle to surprise him. Originally I had a one-on-one session with professor Wendt – "Dynamics and Composition" – but she called to regrettably inform me that she was sick. We postponed our meeting and I was giddy with excitement. My palms were sweaty the entire flight and it wasn't until days later that I realized that in my state of excitement, I accidentally paid for a 20-dollar cab fare with a 100-dollar bill – and told the driver to keep the change! At that moment it didn't matter. I was right there, in front of his apartment building; my braid disheveled by travel, a hastily packed duffel bag over my shoulder.

I rang the doorbell once, twice, three times without success, so I called him on his cellphone.

Heero was in Alaska, with the team, for a drone-demonstration.

I was right there on his doorstep, but I never told him – I didn't want him to feel bad.

" _A hundred days,"_ Heero said, his pleasant voice interrupting my musings.

"Hm? What?"

" _It will have been a hundred days since we last saw each other."_

I nodded, that sounded about right – yet at the same time sounded so _wrong_. "Ninety-nine days too long."

" _Not a hundred days too long?"_ He shot back, his tone bemused.

"Please, I can last one day without you," I deadpanned. "Never slept so well in my life the night after graduation; without you tossing and turning and getting up at fuck'o'clock for your goddamn run." I hadn't slept a wink, and he knew I hadn't because he had told me.

" _Same. You snore."_ He hadn't slept either, that first night.

I laughed softly at his sarcasm. "I shouldn't have called," I said as a poor excuse of an apology. "It's late and you have work tomorrow."

" _It's okay. I'm glad you called. I shouldn't have told you in a stupid email like that."_

I smiled at him saying exactly what I needed to hear without even realizing it.

He let out a small sigh and the sound of sheets rustling came through the line again.

"You wanna go back to sleep?"

" _Hmm… No."_

My smile twisted into a playful grin. "What are you wearing?" I reveled in his breathy chuckle.

" _Lace panties."_

A short laugh erupted out of me again. "Wouldn't that be a sight," I paused to give the fantasy some thought. I could hear his breathing deepen and I knew instantly what he wanted from this phone call now that I had rudely awoken him anyway.

"You want the D, baby?" I teased him. A tiny moan escaped him and the sound shot straight to my groin. I dropped one hand into my lap, the weight of it alone causing fiery sensations to spread through my body. "Hold on, don't get started without me." I closed my laptop and the room went dark. In the blackness I groped my way to my bedroom, past the rooms of my two roommates. I nearly tripped on a bundle of clothes on the floor at the foot of my bed. I kicked the pile away and made myself comfortable on my bed, sitting up with a pillow behind me, propped up against the headboard. With one hand I popped the buttons of my fly in preparation. I heard Heero shift in his bed too and the scraping sound of the drawer of his nightstand opening.

"Do you want to hear about my day?" I purred.

He laughed softly. "Yeah… Tell me about your day."

"I sat in on this really long lecture by professor Wendt. I told you how she can drag on, right? She starts talking poetic about this painting, with a picture of it on the screen behind her. Cezanne's 'Seven Bathers': seven guys in the buff, bathing in a spring in the forest. All I could think about was when I last saw you soaking wet… Flustered after a race… Water droplets running down your body… I wanted to trace their every path with my tongue."

" _Fuck, Duo,"_ he groaned.

"You're not touching yourself yet, right?"

" _No. I'm listening."_

I smirked. "I got so hard, thinking about you. I got so hard, baby, just like I'm getting hard for you right now."

Heero released a shuddering breath.

"What about you? Are you hard for me?"

" _Yes,"_ he hissed.

"I realized during that lecture that I haven't fucked you in the shower yet. I was intending to amend that this weekend."

" _Mmm, I'm sorry."_

"Oh, I know you are," I quipped. "When I finally get to Seattle we are going to christen every room in that apartment. You're in your bedroom right now, right?"

" _Yeah._ "

"Describe it to me."

He paused, momentarily confused by the turn the conversation had taken. Usually the classic approach of describing what we were wearing was enough, leading into our phone-sex sessions. " _Uhm… The big bed is across from the door. There's a dresser to the right and two narrow floor-to-ceiling windows on the left. I put one of the lounge chairs from the living room in the corner and I got a nice, soft rug last week._ "

I tried to picture it. It was strange that I had no idea what his apartment looked like, even though I'd be moving in with him this fall. "I'm not just going to fuck you in that bed, but that's probably where we'll start out. I'm going to fuck you exactly where you are laying right now, with your legs over my shoulders."

He let out a small, appreciative moan.

"And I'm going to bend you over that dresser and you will have to brace yourself because I plan to fuck you hard. You want that, don't you?"

" _Yes,"_ he admitted pathetically.

"And before I fuck you against those windows, you're going to take a seat in that chair so I can suck you off. I love having your hard cock in my mouth; it feels so good and the sounds you make are-…" I groaned, losing myself to my own fantasy. "I want to hear you, baby. Let me hear you."

" _Ah!... Can I touch myself yet?"_

"Not yet." I resisted the urge to fondle myself through my underwear. "And we won't be done in the bedroom until I've laid on my back on that rug and you've ridden me. It's so amazing to see you pleasuring yourself on my dick."

" _Duo… God…"_

I could hear the embarrassment in his voice and knew he was blushing – it was titillating. "The bathroom comes after that. Against the sink; In the bathtub; In the shower stall. I think I'm not going to let us graduate to 'kitchen-level' until I've made you come with just my cock, without you touching yourself, like you did that very first time. Do you think you can do that?"

" _Yes."_ The word was muffled as he must have been biting his pillow. _"Ohh, I want you inside me so badly."_

"Can you come with just the D inside you?"

" _No,"_ he whined with apparent disappointment. _"It's not the same. It doesn't feel as good as your cock."_

"It'll have to do for now."

" _Yeah…"_

"Do you have it ready?"

" _Hmhm."_

I let my hands wander over the shape of my erection under the thin layer of fabric stretched taut. "Rub it against your dick for me."

" _Can I turn it on?"_

I smiled at him for asking for permission yet again, taking in the surge of added pleasure. "Not yet."

It was quiet for a moment, then soft moans started pouring from his lips as he rubbed the vibrator – that we had named 'the D' – against himself.

"Imagine it's me."

" _It's not as big as you,"_ he argued dumbly, but he moaned more loudly nevertheless.

"It'll have to do," I repeated with a sly grin. I palmed myself through my underwear and made sure not to bite back my groan, knowing he would enjoy hearing me. Not being able to stand it any longer, I got my boxer briefs out of the way and took myself into my hand. "Tell me what you're doing."

" _I'm rubbing the tip of it against the underside of the head."_

I touched myself in a similar fashion, lightly, with the tip of my fingers.

" _And now I'm running it down the length and back up…"_

"Yeah." I mimicked the actions he was describing. "Did you apply the lube yet?"

" _Not yet. Do you want me to?"_

"Hmhm."

" _I'm going to put you on speaker."_

Shortly after that I could clearly hear the cap of the bottle of lube being popped off. I imagined him lubing up 'the D', the medium-sized vibrator that I had sent him a few weeks ago to spice up our phone calls. I made him promise to only use it when we were having phone sex, as a way to make our sessions more intimate and special, and connecting us in a way we hadn't been able to since July – or an approximation thereof anyway. Of course it wasn't as good as really being together, but I knew he looked forward to these calls as much as I did.

" _What do you want me to do?"_ He asked. His voice sounded a little different, a little more distant, now that he was on speaker, but I knew he would need both hands.

I wished I could put him on speaker and free both my hands as well, but I couldn't risk either of my roommates overhearing us. I knew they wouldn't think much of it – they'd just bitch about me keeping them up at night, or tease me about the specifics. They knew I was gay and they were fine with it – one of them was bi himself. Being gay wasn't that big of a deal at The Art Institute. Regardless, I didn't want them listening in on my conversation with Heero. It was a private exchange and I was protective of that.

Remembering he had asked me for instructions, I replied: "I want you to fuck your slick fist."

" _Ohh…"_ If his incessant moans were any indication, I knew he wasted no time obeying my order. I squeezed my hand tightly around my own arousal and lifted my hips off the bed to thrust into it, closing my eyes so I could pretend Heero was straddling me and I was thrusting into him. I paused to wet my palm with my tongue before continuing. I let us jerk ourselves off for a minute, letting the pressure in our abdomen build. Then I voiced my next command: "Turn over. On your stomach, with your ass up, so I can fuck you."

" _Jesus, Duo…"_ he breathed. The sheets rustled again as he shifted in his bed.

It wasn't a challenge to imagine what he looked like. I had watched him masturbate like that when we were still sharing that tiny dorm-room back at college. His face buried into the pillow to muffle his helpless moans, his back arched so he could raise his hips, giving him enough room to keep stroking himself while also exposing his opening.

"Tease your hole with your finger."

" _No, I want-"_

"Heero," I growled, knowing he liked me being dominant at this stage of the game.

I could tell he was biting on his bottom lip from the way his gasps sounded and that he did as I told him. _"What are you doing?"_ He inquired.

"I'm getting ready to fuck you," I said. I sat up on my knees, picturing myself kneeling behind him, between his parted thighs. I reached for my own tube of lube, wanting my fist to move easily over the length of my erection as I pretended to make love to him. "Put that finger inside you and find your sweet spot."

" _Nnn… Nn… Ah!"_ He breathed in sharply and released the air as one, drawn-out moan.

"That was quick. You've gotten good at that." It used to take him a while before he could massage his prostrate just right to elicit such a response.

" _I've had a lot of practice,"_ he admitted in a whisper and then chuckled breathily.

"I bet you have." I grinned. I liked having that effect on him, unraveling his control, encouraging him to give into his desires without restraint or guilt. He even confessed to me that some mornings he'd skip his run to give himself time to masturbate at length, after waking up from a dream he had about me. "Now put the vibrator at your entrance."

" _Finally,"_ he said through gritted teeth, making a hearty laugh erupt out of me that was probably too loud. _"Can I turn it on?"_

"No." He mumbled a curse at me.

I sat back on my calves and formed a circle with my thumb and index finger, far too small for my penis to fit through. I put the circle against the tip of my erection, rocking against it, pretending it was him. "Push it in slowly." My voice was barely a whisper _–_ I could hardly hear myself over the blood rushing through my ears.

" _Ahhh… Nnnn…"_

"Slowly, Heero, slowly…" I urged while I widened the circle of my fingers to fit over the crown of my manhood before forming the digits into a tight fist. It was the best I could do to simulate burying myself deep inside him. In the moment I regretted resisting the temptation to buy another toy at that sex shop, one that I could slide over my erection; that would grip me the way Heero's tight channel would. "Feel it going into you. Feel it stretch you. Feel the head push past your prostrate."

" _Ah! Ohhh… I wish it was you,"_ he said through gritted teeth.

"It is me. That's my cock. You're going to help me fuck you." I settled my fist around the base and wrapped the fingers around the girth even more tightly, the way Heero would clench around me when a surge of pleasure hits him.

" _Oh, God..."_

"No need for formalities, baby. You can just call me Duo," I quipped. He couldn't even laugh at my joke, he just moaned in response. "Move it in and out of you." I was already pumping my own fist up and down.

" _Can I please turn it on?"_

I shivered at hearing him beg but wasn't about to show him any mercy, not yet. "No."

" _Ohh… I hate you_."

I let out a rumbling laugh. "Mmm, I'm going to have to work hard to amend that."

" _Maybe when we graduate to kitchen-level, I get to tease you like this."_

"You want to fuck me?"

" _Maybe. Give you a taste of your own medicine."_

I smiled. We hadn't reversed the roles yet, but I was open to it. I didn't enjoy fingering myself, but I was certain it would be different if he was fucking me. Heero had previously made it clear that he might want to try it at some point, but never addressed it again. It was a bit of a surprise, but not an unwelcome surprise.

" _But first I really want your dick up my ass,"_ he assured me.

"Good…" I bit my lip and moved my hips to work my arousal and in out of my own fist that I held still in front of me. "Make it nice, deep, long strokes Heero. All the way out and all the way in."

His breathing was harsh and his moans raspy; the sounds burned the shell of my red-hot ear.

Slowly I built up the pace, drawing more amazing sounds from him. When I closed my eyes and lost myself to the sensations, it was like he was right there in my twin bed, rocking back against me with each inward thrust.

" _Please let me turn it on,"_ he pleaded. _"Please…"_

"I'm starting to think you like the D more than you like the real thing."

" _No. God, no… It's just-… Mmm… The vibrations are the only redeeming thing about this plastic monstrosity."_

"Uhmmm…" I stalled to madden him. "Let me think about it."

" _Please, Duo."_

"First make sure it's deep inside you. All the way in so only the end is sticking out of you."

" _Mmm. Yeah. Please."_

"You can turn it on now." Instantly I heard the faint buzzing in the background before it was quickly drowned out by his cry. "Feel good?"

" _So good,"_ he drawled.

"If you want me to let you fuck me, maybe you should tell me what you like about getting fucked," I prompted cheekily.

" _Nnn. Could you stop making me blush like a fucking schoolgirl?"_

I chuckled at his irritated tone. "I wish I could see you blush." I knew better than to ask him to send me a picture. We had been through that before.

He moaned senselessly.

" _What do you like about it, Heero? Tell me."_ I waited with baited breath. I just wanted to hear him talk, my lust thrived on it. His deep voice was thrilling. It was the only thing that was real in the moment and I wanted more of it to help my fantasy, to help me pretend he was in bed with me.

" _I like-… I like the way it feels when I stretch around you. You feel so big I can feel the ridge of the crown and the bumps of the veins. I can feel it brush by my prostrate and the shaft constantly presses against it. It's so intense."_

"Hmmm… Keep going. This is good." I started stroking myself again. I didn't think it would take much longer for us both to reach completion. The moans that interrupted his words started to get that familiar pitch to them.

" _When it's inside me I feel so full at first and it's just so… satisfying."_

"Oh, fuck."

" _But then I slowly start to get used to it and it feels even better because I feel like I'm complete."_

I smiled.

" _When you move… the friction is so good…"_ He bit back a sob. _"And I love making you lose control. I want to make you feel good. Better than all those girls."_

"Hnnn and it is better, baby. It's so much better with you."

"… _Duo,"_ there was an urgency to his voice. _"I'm so close."_

"I know, it's okay. Just keep talking to me."

" _I love it when you fuck me hard from behind and your balls hit me with each thrust. I love-… Ah… I love the way your grip on my hips tightens when you're going to come. Duo… Nn. I love it when you come inside me."_

I sped up the motion of my fist. "Yeah. Ahhh…"

" _And my orgasms are so much more intense when I can clench my muscles around your thick cock- Ah!"_

"Come for me now, Heero. Come with me – are you ready?"

" _Yes…! Yes! Ah! Ahh! Duo!"_

I groaned loudly myself and cried out his name desperately as I reached my climax. My hips thrust into my hand with wild abandon. My stomach felt tight and tense until my entire body suddenly relaxed and I dropped back down onto the mattress, not caring about the way it creaked in the dead of night.

"… _Motherfuck…"_

A short laugh escaped me. I didn't say anything, waiting for my breathing to even out. I listened to him switch off the vibrator and I could distantly hear water running as he went to the bathroom to clean himself off, momentarily leaving the phone on his bed. I lazily reached for the box of tissues on my nightstand and cleaned the semen off my hand and the excess lube off my softening member.

Heero returned to his bed and it was evident he took the phone off speaker by the crisp quality of his voice as he spoke: _"Somehow I miss you even more right now."_ His mouth was close to the receiver; I could hear his breaths and the tempting, wet sound of his mouth.

A sloppy grin appeared on my face. "Who would have thought… Mister Serious likes to cuddle after sex." I remembered the last few weeks at college fondly, when we shared the tiny bottom bunk bed more often than not and he slept soundly in my arms: his arm hugging my torso, his thigh draped over mine, his wild head of hair tucked under my chin. I remembered the way his hot breath swept across my chest and the way he'd place absent-minded kisses on my skin.

"Shut up. Dick." He chuckled regardless and then he became quiet.

Not wanting him to fall asleep quite yet – and end the phone call _–_ I asked: "So how was your day?"

He took a deep breath. It was clear he barely managed to hold onto his consciousness. _"It was okay, except…"_

I quirked an eyebrow and played with the end of my braid. When he didn't finish his sentence, I pressed: "Except?"

" _I sent my boyfriend this really shitty email."_

I smiled but I wasn't fooled. "That wasn't what you were going to say. Tell me."

" _It's not important."_ He sighed. _"It's nothing you haven't heard before."_

"Franco," I surmised with a sour tone.

" _It always is."_

"What did he say this time?"

He released another sigh. _"I don't want to get into this. It's not important, don't worry about it."_

"I'll worry whenever the fuck I want," I snapped, though I wasn't angry at him. "Like when there is this guy who makes my boyfriend feel like shit for being gay." Not until too long ago that word – 'gay' – had been taboo. Heero had since made great strides in accepting his sexuality but then this Neanderthal joined their team and started getting on Heero's case. Heero wasn't out at work, but somehow Franco could tell and he never failed to abuse an opportunity to make the Japanese man feel uncomfortable.

" _This mathematician from Iceland had flown in to help with the recalibration of our drone and I was just talking with him – I admired his work. But Franco was sitting behind him doing this thing with his tongue in his cheek… Implying that I wanted to suck this guy's dick. It just ruined my day because the rest of the day I had to try really hard not to punch him in his face, and it sucked the fun out of everything."_

"It sucked the fun out of math?" I deadpanned, hoping to make him laugh. His small chuckle relieved me. "Maybe you should tell Kovalyov," I continued more seriously. "What this guy keeps doing sways between bullying and sexual harassment."

Heero shifted in bed and made a disproving, clicking sound with his tongue against the back of his front teeth. He didn't like talking about this. _"He's not my teacher anymore, he's my supervisor – my boss. I'm not going to bother him with childish things like this. Besides, Franco is only here for this one project. After the presentation in March, he'll get reassigned to a different department anyway."_

"Heero-"

" _I'm fine. I shouldn't have brought it up,"_ he insisted, poorly veiling how irritated he was.

"I'm going to say something you aren't going to like." I could practically feel him rolling his eyes at me. "This guy thrives on making you uncomfortable. Keeping your sexuality a secret from the other guys – and Mel – is giving him power, by making it seem like it's this dirty thing that you're ashamed of. If you'd just tell them you have a boyfriend, he has no power over you anymore."

" _That's not professional,"_ he argued.

"Heero, you spend about eighty hours a week cooped up with these people. Mel talks about her boyfriend. Cohen talks about his wife and kids all the time. Seong-min gives you a play-by-play of all his dates. You know stuff about each other. Telling them your boyfriend is going to come live with you is not oversharing."

He was silent, but not because he was being persuaded by my reasoning.

"You're still afraid people will judge you if they know," I concluded. There was no malice in my tone, only concern. I hated that he felt that way, in spite of all of the progress that had been made.

" _Why is that so unreasonable to think? There are still guys like Franco."_

"You should give people the benefit of the doubt. Most are more evolved than Franco. Did you forget what happened at school? A couple of guys were dicks about it, but everyone else donated money so you could come back and gave you a standing ovation when you stepped onto the stage for your Valedictorian speech."

" _That was a bubble, Duo. This is the real world,"_ he said, getting heated in the wrong way. _"At college it's cool to be liberal and everybody loved you anyway, because you were the cool kid and they were supposed to. Out here there are guys like Franco and like… like our dads. And they are the cool guys that everyone likes. They all laugh at his stupid fag-jokes."_

"I think you should give them a chance to show they are better than that."

" _What if they're not better than that?"_ He shot back. _"I need this job, Duo. I don't want to have to leave because things got weird."_

I scoffed at that. "And things aren't weird now? Franco comes in with a new fag-joke every morning and mimes a blow-job to pester you. Mel and the guys probably just laugh because it's polite and they think it doesn't harm anyone anyway. He's basically bribing them with Starbucks every morning. I wouldn't just laugh at a stupid joke for free coffee in the early morning – I'd do a whole song and dance. The way you talk about them makes them sound like really decent people. If you tell them, I'm sure they'd feel mortified and they would make Franco stop the bullshit."

He let out a frustrated sigh. _"It's late, I should hang up. I have work tomorrow."_

I scrubbed my face with my hand, disappointed that I wasn't getting through to him. I didn't want the call to end negatively, so I apologized for pressing the issue.

" _It's fine."_

"I love you, baby."

" _I love you too."_ The line was promptly disconnected.

I listened to the dial tone for a while and stared up at the ceiling. Maybe I had been fooling myself. Maybe we – he – hadn't made as much progress as I thought. I could only hope that once I joined him in Seattle, I could help him get past it. In hindsight it was probably naïve to think he could take those steps towards not just accepting his sexuality, but being open about it as well, without me there. It was too easy for him to hide it, too tempting to avoid any drama. And I couldn't blame him. We had been through enough drama, him especially.

With a shiver, I still remembered our entire lives imploding last spring, when Norwood thought it was funny to out us to the entire university. Heero had just lost his grandmother and was about to lose everything he spent four years working his ass off for on top of that. He was able to graduate thanks to the surprising support of the student body, but I shouldn't underestimate how that near-catastrophe must have affected him.

Neither of us have talked to our dads since the whole thing came to light. They despise us. Even though we despise them right back, it was still difficult, especially for Heero. I was used to my father hating me for who I was. He always thought I was a lazy, dumb coward and resented me for it. Hating me for being gay was simply the cherry on top. As much as Heero hated his dad, I was certain it had meant something to him that Odin had always been proud of him and envious of him. It was good for his self-esteem, to know that even his father knew he was better than him. Those couple of days Heero spent with his dad after he had been dragged off campus by him – and the inevitable notion of being set back to Japan – must have been awful, but Heero never told me much about it.

In his own, twisted way, Odin loved his son…but he didn't anymore _only_ because he was gay…just like his mother didn't love him because he was gay…just like he suspected even his beloved grandmother wouldn't have loved him if she had known he was gay. That was a powerful message. He didn't have friends like Obie and WuFei to send a different, even more powerful message: that people could still love you even when you come out to them. He only ever had me and I was a 'fag' myself, so that didn't have the same impact.

I resisted the urge to call him back – there was nothing I could say in that moment to ease his worries and make him feel better anyway. It was best for him to get his rest; he had another long day of dealing with Franco ahead of him.

Realizing I was still hungry – since my plan to stuff my face with mac-and-cheese fell through – I tiptoed back to the kitchen to get a bag of chips and snacked on that. Once I was satisfied, I undressed and went to bed, only to toss and turn restlessly.

My final few weeks at Columbus dragged on. The summer program ended early September, but I was invited to stay through October to partake in more classes. My professors were impressed by my work and even more so by my development; several of them had taken a special interest in me, which was very flattering and encouraging. Even though I didn't pay tuition, I was allowed to sit in on lectures and classes as the academic year took off. I got a little unwanted attention from the other students for being 'the teacher's pet', but I didn't care – I was only focused on making the best of the opportunity.

I had made a couple of friends at The Art Institute, although I tried to keep my distance knowing I'd leave soon. And I got along very well with one of my roommates – the straight one. Still, I felt lonely without Heero. He had been my constant companion for years. It had been odd to realize I missed his smell: the scent of his sweat when he'd return from his morning run; the faint smell of chlorine that hung around him after a meet; the perfume of his cheap shampoo; the smell of his healthy food, which never used to appeal to me. Even my clothes just smelled different when they used to share a closet with Heero's.

I kept in touch with Obie and WuFei, and we even managed to meet-up halfway two or three times for dinner; once we went bowling. Sally and Jenny had tagged along and I enjoyed spending time with them, but as the only single one of the group, I only felt lonelier. They were my friends and it was difficult to have to leave them behind to go to Seattle, but more than anything I just wanted to be with Heero again.

I counted the days and during the nights I dreamt of what it might be like. I looked forward to simple things, like taking him on a date or holding his hand. For the first time, we would have the freedom to be a real couple – that was all I ever wanted.

On the day of my flight to Seattle, I hurried to Professor Pereira's office to hand in my final assignment. I was eager to get home and finish packing up my few belongings; I had arranged for a cab to come pick me up at one. I was a little anxious to find the professor missing from his private quarters and rushed across campus to track him down in one of the auditoria. After peering through the windows into each lecture hall, I was relieved when I found him, sitting at the desk at the front of rows of empty seats. I rapped my fist against the window pane and opened the door when he waved for me to come in.

"Am I interrupting something?"

The dark-haired man closed his laptop and behind him the projection screen went blank. "Not at all. What can I do for you, Duo?"

I held up the thick, cardboard cylinder that served as the protective casing around my rolled up canvas.

"Right, the chiaroscuro-assignment." He shook his head at his own forgetfulness and motioned me over. I closed the distance to the desk and produced the canvas from the cylinder. He rolled it out on top of the surface of the desk while I wiped my wet palms on the back of my jeans. Technically, the assignment was of no real significance. The summer program ended in September and I already had my certificate. Pereira was one of the professors who had given me extra-curricular assignments and helped me further improve myself beyond what the summer course had to offer.

He got up from his seat and stared down at my work. One hand was on his hip, with the other he touched his chin and then later his brow. For an excruciatingly long period of time, he was lost in thought as he studied the painting presented before him. As time dragged on, I got antsy – not only because I was worried about his feedback, but also because I knew I had to catch my bus back to the apartment.

"Duo…" He released a sigh that worried me, but then he said: "This is great. I'm really impressed with how you still dared to use color in contrast to the shadows and highlights, and there is this surreal quality to the background being nothing but a black void. The model demands all the attention; the face absorbs the light…" He made vague gestures as he talked.

A smile appeared on my lips – my ego was boosted by his praise.

"The imprecise, dynamic brushstrokes are really starting to be a trademark of your work. I particularly like it in this piece. There seems to be a rush to it – it highlights the transient nature of the play of light and shadow."

"Thank you." I watched his expression closely, noticing the deep frown and the downturned face. "Why are you making that face though?"

He let out another sigh and turned around, leaning back against the desk. He folded his arms in front of his chest and looked at me with pinched-together eyebrows. "You are leaving soon, right?"

"Today, sir."

"Today? Wow." He looked back at the painting and took a deep breath. "I know going to Seattle is important to you. I know what is waiting for you there."

I scratched the back of my neck sheepishly. I couldn't avoid telling Pereira a little about Heero – after all, he was the model featured in the painting. I painted him from the chest up, solely from memory. His hair fell wispily around his bright features; his eyes were intense as always. He held his hand in front of his face, his fingers splayed, casting long black shadows that crept across his cheek, nose and mouth, accentuating the shapes.

"But what is there for you in Seattle aside from your boyfriend? What are you going to do there?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. Find a job."

"What about your art?"

"I can still draw and paint, and maybe I'll find some work that has something to do with that."

"Maybe…" He was unconvinced. "Duo, you are very talented, you have a lot of potential. I don't want to see it go to waste."

I frowned at him. "What are you suggesting?"

"You can enroll here in February."

I chuckled nervously. "I can't afford that…"

"Every year the board gets to grant three full scholarships to the two-year program. It starts every year at the end of February," he said quickly, like he had been waiting to say it for a while. "We've already had a vote." He paused for effect. "One of those scholarships is yours, if you want it."

"I-… Uh-…" My face went red at the shocking news.

"Over the past few months you have impressed every single one of us," Pereira continued. "You are a quick learner, you have great insight and creativity, and you have the right kind of attitude to push yourself. It's an intensive program, everything from four years is condensed into two, but I am confident you can manage it."

 _Two years. Intense. Not a lot of time off. Not a lot of time to fly back and forth to Seattle_ , my frazzled mind supplied.

"I'm not going to lie, Duo, you aren't there yet. Don't get me wrong – you deliver fantastic work for what it's worth, but you still have a long way to go. We have only just started to cover the different techniques. Right now, it's 'diamond in the rough.' You have to invest in yourself; chip away until you find the core of what makes you a potentially great artist, polish your skills and find the right direction for your art. There are so many angles to your art that you could explore and eventually build a career on. I could even see you working here someday – your passion is infectious. I know the opportunity got taken away from you before by your father, but your art – your _talent_ – deserves this second chance."

My mind was racing; I could barely make sense of what he said, too distracted by the implications of it all. "You're kind of catching me off guard here…" I said dumbly.

"I understand; I get it, you love him. But you love art too. Both are apparent in your work," he nodded back at the painting. "Go to Seattle, spend time with your boyfriend, but think about my offer. Talk to him about it." He placed a hand on my shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "You have until the end of January to make up your mind."

All color drained from my face. I was flattered and honored by the offer, but overwhelmed by the decision that I would have to make. It was an incredible opportunity but… but… Heero…

Professor Pereira offered a kind smile in response to my panicked expression. "I know it's a lot to take in – maybe I should've eased you into it. I forgot that you were leaving today and this was something that had to be said before your departure."

"I-… I really appreciate the offer. Really… I'm… flabbergasted." I struggled to find words and string them together in a coherent sentence. "But-"

Pereira held up his hand to silence me. "Don't give me an answer right now because right now, your answer is only going to be based on how badly you want to see your boyfriend; I think you'd be inclined to give the wrong answer."

I took a deep breath and placed a hand over my abdomen, feeling a little nauseous all of a sudden.

"Keep in touch, okay? And I hope to hear good news from you come January."

All I could do was nod dumbly. He asked me if he could keep the painting and again, I just nodded. In a haze I must have said my goodbyes to him because the next thing I knew I was standing at the bus stop, watching the bus approach; I had no idea how my feet had taken me there. I found myself a seat in the back of the bus with my earbuds in my ears and the volume of my music turned up to drown out my thoughts. I watched the campus that had been my home for the past 100 days disappear from sight and sternly fixed my gaze to the back of the seat in front of me, studying dried gum, black doodles done with a sharpie, and a penis scratched into the plastic. Raindrops made a ticking sound on the roof.

I jogged the distance from the bus stop to the apartment building. I only had about an hour left until my cab would come to take me to the airport and I still had to pack some of my things. I'd been so preoccupied with the finishing touches to my final assignment that I had postponed packing up my stuff. My roommates weren't home; they had their own classes to attend. Kaamil had left a note stuck to my door:

 _Have fun with your boyfriend._ He had signed it with a cheeky smiley-face. I shook my head at him but smiled regardless. I pushed through the door open and immediately began tossing the last few things in my duffel bag that sat on the bed.

I cursed under my breath when the process was interrupted by my phone vibrating in the back pocket of my jeans; a grin replaced my glower when I noticed the photo that appeared on the screen.I thumbed the green telephone superimposed on the image and greeted: "Hey, babe."

" _Hey. Are you still at school?"_

From his to-the-point demeanor it was apparent he was at work and around his colleagues. "Nope. Back at the apartment, just finishing up here."

" _When will your cab be there?"_

I momentarily took the phone away from my ear to check the time. "Forty minutes from now, I should hurry."

" _What did Pereira say?"_

"Hm?" I shot up straight – in my surprise, I dropped the fistful of paintbrushes I had been holding. "I… Uh, what do you mean?"

" _You handed in your final assignment today, right?"_

 _Right._ "Oh, yeah the chiaroscuro painting. Yeah… he- uh, he loved it. He was really impressed." I got down on my knees to collect my brushes.

" _Are you taking it with you?"_

"No. I gave it to him." I groaned as I extended my arm under the bed to grab the last of the brushes.

" _I never get to see any of your work,_ " he said; I imagined him pouting.

I chuckled. He had no idea he was my favorite subject – it would probably make him very self-conscious. To change the subject, I asked: "Are you still picking me up from the airport?" Over the course of the summer, Heero had gotten his driver's license, and a company car to boot. The privileges of being a genius…

" _Yeah, Kovalyov is letting me leave early."_

I sighed. My heart was pounding. "I can't wait to see you. The things I'm gonna do to you…" I chuckled breathily. I was about to make a comment that would make his cheekbones and ears very red but I was cut off by the abrupt buzz of the doorbell. "Shit!"

" _What's wrong?"_

"My cab is early." I rushed into the bathroom to collect my toothbrush and single bottle of cologne, then dumped the rest of my stuff in the trash. "It gotta go. I'll see you soon."

" _Yeah. Have a safe flight."_

I hung up the phone and stuffed it back in my pocket on my way to the front door. I leaned against the wall by the intercom and made a face when it buzzed again. "You're a little early, hold on a minute."

" _Let us in, man! The rain is going to soak right down to my underwear!_ "

A deep frown appeared on my forehead. "Obie?"

" _Just let us in!_ "

"Us?"

" _Duo!_ " Two men yelled in unison.

"Alright, alright." I held down the button that opened the door downstairs and waited for Obie and the mystery guest in the doorway of the apartment.

My tall friend and former basketball teammate appeared at the top of the staircase first. His brown leather jacket and dark jeans were wet and raindrops trailed down his face, but he smiled at the sight of me and closed the distance between us with a light jog. Following shortly behind was WuFei, looking equally wet, but Obie blocked my view when he embraced me.

I squeezed my arms around him briefly and then patted him on the back before letting go. "What are you guys doing here?" I asked with big eyes and then moved to give WuFei a hug, catching him a little off guard. He wasn't as physical as Obie and probably would have preferred a handshake.

"We thought we'd give you a ride to the airport."

I stared at them both. "You drove three hours for the forty-minute drive from here to the airport?"

"Hey, come on, I know how this goes," Obie boldly stepped into the apartment. "You're moving to the other side of the country; we're not going to be seeing a lot of you. A clichéd, yet appropriately heartfelt goodbye at the airport is in order."

"How did he convince you to tag along?" I asked WuFei.

"He has his ways," was his reply and his grimace made me laugh.

"I already called a cab," I mused aloud. Right after stating the obvious, I made a phone call to cancel the taxi service.

"Are you ready to go? We thought we could have a late lunch at the airport before seeing you off."

"Uhh yeah, sure. Just give me a minute." I headed into the bedroom and finished stuffing my bag. I did a final sweep and once I was satisfied that nothing of importance was being left, I told them I was ready to go.

The three of us headed downstairs and climbed into WuFei's respectable sedan: WuFei behind the wheel, Obie in the driver's seat and me in the back with my bag.

"This rain is crazy," commented Obie.

I looked out the window. The outside world was distorted by the rivulets of water trailing down the side window. I could barely make out the shapes of cars and a person running along the sidewalk without an umbrella.

"It's like a monsoon."

"Better get used to it," the driver remarked dryly. "Considering where you're headed."

"Actually, Heero says it's not that bad."

"Yeah, in the summer," he deadpanned.

"It's okay. I don't think I'm going to mind Heero coming back all wet and cold from his morning runs…" I smirked at him through the rearview mirror. My smile faltered as the conversation with Pereira came to mind. Of course I was still excited about seeing Heero again, but I dreaded the conversation that we would need to have. How was I supposed to find the right time to dump that in his lap? _Hey, I'm really happy to see you after not seeing you all summer, but I've been given this amazing opportunity that – if I take it – means we aren't going to see much of each other for two years starting February…_ Until I found the appropriate time to discuss it with him, it'd remain my dirty secret.

I didn't even realize it had been quiet in the car for an uncomfortably long period of time until Obie pointed out: "This isn't the kind of chipper road trip we were expecting…" He turned around in his seat to look at me.

"What do you mean?"

"I thought you'd be all bouncy and giddy, on your way to see Heero… Is everything alright?"

A small smile tugged at my lips. "You notice everything, huh?"

"I'm not ashamed of being in touch with my sensitive side."

I shook my head at his well-meaning concern. "I'm fine." Obie was about to say something when WuFei demanded his attention, making him pull up the GPS on his phone so he could navigate the way to the airport.

WuFei parked the car and it seemed like we had to walk a mile before we finally reached the terminal. Obie guilt-tripped us into having lunch at KFC because Jenny never let him have fried food anymore. WuFei and I ordered a modest menu while Obie cluttered the table with a massive bucket of fried chicken, an assortment of snacks and two different kinds of fries. The two of them started in on a back-and-forth banter regarding Obie's choice of a meal; it was amusing to watch until my thoughts drifted away again and I ended up staring blankly at a couple saying goodbye. They embraced and kissed passionately – the man didn't want to let go of his wife or girlfriend. She put her hand on his cheek, reassured him with a few words, then left for check-in. The guy just stood there, staring and waved at her when she turned back once before disappearing from sight.

"Duo?"

I tore my gaze away – this time it was WuFei who noticed my absentmindedness. "Hm?"

My two friends shared a concerned look. Obie put the piece of chicken he was holding away and pushed the bucket aside to lean in. "Are you okay?"

"He put away the chicken. This is serious," the Chinese man surmised.

"Do you even want to go to Seattle?"

I snorted at the question. "Of course I want to go! I want to be with Heero."

"Okay… But…?" He waited for me to fill in the blanks.

"But it's complicated," I conceded.

"What's making it complicated?" WuFei interjected.

"I-… I'm just a little frazzled. I got some pretty big news today."

Obie: "Good news?"

WuFei: "Bad news?"

I shook my head at them and scrubbed my face with my hands. "I don't know." I heaved a sigh. "Technically it's good news, but it's making everything really complicated and it's sucking the fun out of today which is… bad." I groaned at my own ineloquence. At Obie's raised eyebrows and WuFei's impatient stare, I elaborated: "One of my professors offered me a full scholarship for the two-year-program. If I take it, I'd start in February." I watched the excitement on their faces blend into understanding for my dilemma.

"That's really impressive, Duo. To be honest, I had no idea you were that talented." WuFei flashed a playful grin, to the best of his abilities.

"I know! Me neither! That is why it is so amazing. But these last 100 days have been anything but amazing; me being here and Heero being in Seattle. I was really excited about seeing him today, but now I have the weight of this bomb on my shoulders that I'm going to have to drop on him at some point."

"So you want to take the offer."

I blinked at Obie for drawing that conclusion. "I didn't say that."

"Be honest. If you were absolutely sure you didn't want to accept the scholarship, you wouldn't worry about having to tell Heero. You could just not say anything. If you feel you need the tell him, then that suggests to me you are considering the offer."

I cast my gaze down into my diet coke. "I mean… I have to, right? I have to consider it, at least… Right?" I mumbled.

"Yes," WuFei affirmed without any doubt. "This is a huge deal. I'm sure Heero wants to be with you just as much as you want to be with him, but he'd be the first to tell you to not to give up on your art. You need to think about it. And you need to talk about it with him."

I buried my face in my palms. "But we can't keep doing this, WuFei. We can't spend another two years on either side of the country. It's only been a hundred days and already it's driving me mad."

"Long-distance relationships are difficult," he conceded, "but there has to be a better solution than simply giving up your art."

"But is it really giving up on my art?" I questioned. "I can paint in Seattle."

"Yeah, you can." Both my friends nodded halfheartedly. I groaned and dropped my face down into my folded arms.

We finished our meal while WuFei and Obie made small-talk about a football game from last night. When we said our goodbyes later, they both encouraged me to forget about the scholarship for the day and focus on being happy about seeing Heero again. I thanked them for their support and the ride to the airport; we promised to keep in touch, although I knew it would be a challenge to maintain our friendship over such a great distance.

The plane boarded swiftly and take-off was right on schedule. I used the time to clear my mind and heed my friends' advice to just enjoy the day. I could worry about the offer and the consequences later – I shouldn't let it ruin the moment we had been waiting for for a hundred days.

It was late in the afternoon when I traversed Seattle-Tacoma International Airport. I kept my neck craned, expecting to see a messy mop of hair at any second. I bumped into a lot of people while making my way through the crowd, mumbling half-apologies without ever stopping. My body was uncoordinated with nerves. I had been building up the moment in my head and I started to worry like it would be far from perfect, the way I had imagined it. It might be nothing more than an awkward hug and a sloppy kiss.

I had reached the exit and found myself in a more open space so I could look around. Did he forget? Was he late? Did I tell him the wrong time? I swiveled my head around; through the windows I spotted a red Hyundai parked in the "NO PARKING" zone. I knew it was his because I remembered the phone call when he ranted about the company giving him such a brightly colored car. But the car was unmanned. I turned back and all of a sudden I saw him, like my gaze was drawn to him.

He had walked up to the fifth step of the staircase leading up to a bistro to get a good view of the crowd; he noticed me at the exact same time. The silly smile that appeared on my face could not be contained. I momentarily lost sight of him as he walked down the stairs to meet with me. When he disappeared into the crowd, I headed in his general direction.

Finally, there he was, emerging from behind a family of four and I dropped my bag to the floor and wrapped my arms around him. It wasn't awkward, it felt right. I squeezed him to my body with undeniable desperation and his grasp on me was just as strong. My nose poked into his mop of hair and inhaled greedily. The full force of how much I had missed him hit me in that moment and I struggled to keep myself from crying.

Once I felt I had my sappy emotions under control I pulled back far enough to appreciate the sight of him. His face was beaming, his eyes especially bright. There was an honest, overwhelmed smile on his lips and a familiar relaxation in the way his shoulders hung and his hips slightly pushed forward.

"Did you get shorter?" I joked and laughed heartedly when he poked me between the rubs.

He started: "Nice to see y-"

I didn't let him finish. I cupped his jaw in my hand and leaned in to capture his mouth in a short but perfect kiss. When our lips parted I noticed the red color on his cheeks at the public display of affection, but with the way he was biting his bottom lip, I knew he had no objections. So I kissed him again, more intensely and more passionately. My hand moved from his chin to the back of his neck to pull him closer to me again.

"I've missed you so much," I whispered against his lips.

"Let's go home," he said meaningfully.

I nodded and eagerly hoisted my bag over my shoulder again before following him outside to the red SUV. Luckily he didn't get a ticket yet – or get towed. I whistled at the sight of the brand new car. Heero opened the trunk for me to dump my bag.

"Nice ride," I commented.

"It's very red."

I scrutinized the glossy red finish on the large vehicle, catching the light with a faint shimmer. "It is. I like it though."

"You would." He pinched the fabric of my shirt between his fingers and pulled it out.

I looked down at my red Deadpool shirt and laughed. "What can I say? I like red." I leaned in with a smirk. "I remember you wore a red shirt the day we first met."

"I don't dislike red," he stated, "I just don't like four thousand pounds of it." He patted the back of the car, then walked around to get in behind the wheel. I climbed into the passenger seat and was immediately enveloped by the 'new car smell' that I knew from my youth – my dad bought a lot of cars. The leather seat was soft and the dashboard and doors had chrome accents.

Heero's job paid very well and the benefits were pretty impressive. It was not the kind of job anybody would give up on, say, if your boyfriend would ask you to move to Columbus with him because he wants to study there. I shook those thoughts from my head – there was no point dwelling on that right now.

Heero dutifully watched the road but I was free to stare at him. Once in a while he'd cast a look my way and I would grin at him.

"You look good," I said and bit down on my bottom lip. He looked really good. He was still dressed in grey slacks and a white button-up shirt: his usual work-attire. His hair was as messy as I remembered it, begging me to drag my fingers through the soft, chocolate brown strands. There was an apparent tiredness in the lowered eyelids, but the eyes sparkled with an excitement that reflected my own.

"Are you hungry?" He inquired and made an off-hand remark about getting a bite to eat somewhere.

"Oh, I'm definitely hungry. But not for a BLT." To clarify my point, I slipped my hand into his lap, placing it – not so innocently – high up on his thigh. I gave the muscle a firm squeeze and smirked watching his fingers tighten around the steering wheel. He tried to pretend that he wasn't just as eager as I was, but I wasn't fooled.

I recognized the apartment building as we pulled up to it. I had been on that front step before, my fruitless attempt at romance. I was curious about what the apartment looked like; aside from it being the backdrop in an occasional video chat, I hadn't seen much of the interior.

We took the elevator up to the sixth floor, and it was easy to recognize the how apartment complex was by how new and clean everything was. I idled by his side as he unlocked the door to his apartment – our apartment! I was distracted by my own curiosity, momentarily forgetting about my 'hunger'. He opened the door and gestured for me to step inside first.

My bag landed on the floor with a dull thud and I looked around. As impressive as the modern apartment was, I was still a little underwhelmed. A lot of white and different tones of grey and the stylish contrast of different textures of the surfaces; a glossy countertop but a wavy, 3D effect on the cabinets, a smooth floor but rough walls, linen upholstery but a glass coffee table. The only source of color was the stuffed bookcase against the far wall and – to my surprise – the 'Gundam' drawing I had made for him, for one of his projects, was framed and displayed on the white wall.

"It's nice," I concluded, lacking enthusiasm. "It doesn't feel very… 'me' though…". It didn't feel very 'Heero' either. Other than the drawing, the space was very impersonal, but I shouldn't have expected differently. Heero told me the place had come completely furbished and he wasn't the type to waste time and money to make the apartment homier. It was difficult to face him; I didn't want to cause any friction but I didn't want to be dishonest either.

He closed the door behind him and leaned back against it. "We can make it more 'you': throw in a carpet that doesn't match the couch and leave dirty socks all over the place," he deadpanned with mischievous eyes.

I let out a rumbling laugh. "That ought to do the trick." I tore my gaze away from the unattractive designer chair and instead feasted on the sight of my boyfriend, looking all coy and playing hard to get.

"Do you want a beer?" He offered, practically purring the words.

"You don't drink." Except that one night at that gay club. I grinned sloppily.

"I got beer for you."

I took a step closer to him. "I got something for you too." I laughed at the cheesy line, but ran with it. "A tall glass of water." I winked at him.

He chuckled but the sound quieted down until it disappeared with a deep breath when I closed the distance between us. I let my hands lightly trail up his arms and my mouth ghosted across his face. My fingers moved up to trace his jaw and the shell of his ears, then I ran my hands through his luscious hair and angled his face up so I could finally capture his mouth with an urgent kiss. Heero twisted his fingers into the front of my red shirt and pushed his hips off the door to connect with mine. We rocked out pelvises together, quickly losing our cool to 100 days of bottled up need and desire. The desperation of the encounter threw us off; we were out of sync and we kissed like we had never kissed each other before, like we didn't know how to react when our lips moved together. It was a little frustrating, for Heero too; I could tell by the way his body tensed. He tried to hurry it along, hoping our bodies would remember what to do and started to palm the front of my jeans. I pulled back slightly and whispered: "Wait, stop. Let's take a second."

He nodded but didn't let me go and I didn't want him to.

We both took a deep breath and smiled sheepishly at each other. I pressed my body flush against his and he wrapped his arms around me to seal us in an intimate embrace. I mouthed his ear and the corner of his jaw and whispered repeatedly how much I loved him and how much I had missed him. Sensually, with a soft tone, I described how I was going to make love to him. The 'dirty talk' came easily to me after months of phone sex. And he must have gotten used to it too, because instead of being embarrassed I could feel his arousal swelling in his pants.

I smoothed my hands down his back and slowly untucked his shirt from his slacks. Delicately, I let my fingers caress the small of his back; he shuddered and made me equally weak in the knees when his puckered lips navigated my throat and found my Adam's apple. With a firm grip on his hips I rocked our pelvises together and let my mouth connect with his again, this time for a sensual, unhurried kiss. Our lips blended together the way I remembered – the way that had me distracted during summer classes or jerking off to the memory of him in the middle of the night, alone in my twin bed.

He moaned when our tongues met after I licked his bottom lip; the kiss deepened.

I chuckled breathily. "This is more like it…"

"I have something else for you."

"Beernuts?" I shot back and laughed at my own joke.

He detached himself from me with a mischievous look and walked across the living room, heading for the bedroom, I presumed. A few steps removed from me he toed off his shoes and brought his feet up one by one to take the grey socks off. He pulled the white button-up out of his pants and with his back turned towards me I listened to him undoing his belt buckle and zipping down his pants. The weight of the leather belt and metal buckle pulled the supple fabric down the length of his legs and pooled at his bare feet. His long white shirt covered his behind.

Heero looked over his shoulder; his gaze connected with mine and the small grin on his lips set my nerves alight with anticipation. I cocked an eyebrow at him, waiting for him to show me what he apparently wanted to reveal to me as my surprise.

He grabbed the white fabric of his shirt and pulled it. The blush on his cheeks getting more red as he did.

A moan escaped me once my eyes feasted on the surprise – my hand reactively gave my arousal a squeeze as it throbbed with need in response. My boyfriend was wearing red lace panties, boy shorts style. The flimsy material accented the shape of his ass and made me wonder what the front looked like, straining around his manhood.

"Motherfuck… you weren't kidding," I remarked, remembering the phone call when he said he was wearing lace panties, and I had brushed it off as a joke.

"Fuck you – I bought these yesterday since you seemed to like the idea."

"Oh, I like the idea," I concurred, taking my first step closer to him. "I _love_ the execution." I bit down on my lip and couldn't stop staring at him, feeling like a lucky bastard.

Heero stalked towards the bedroom at the back, swaying his hips mesmerizingly and dropping his button-up shirt along the way. In the doorway he spun around and leaned against the frame, sporting a cocky grin. "Are you coming?" The shape of his erection curving up along his hip under the see-through fabric was a distraction of the best kind.

After a pause I replied: "Nnn. I have a feeling more than once." I hastily followed him, crossing the room with large steps and stripping myself of my jacket and my red shirt. I was about to stride into the bedroom when he stopped me with his index finger against my chest.

"You're overdressed."

I glanced down at my jeans and boots and in a flash I got rid of them, leaving myself in only my boxer brief.

"Better." He led the way into the bedroom. Giving into my curiosity I looked around and spotted the dresser, the chair, the rug and the double windows that he had described to be, as well as the big bed of course.

Heero didn't like that I halted in the middle of the room. He came back for me and took a hold of my hand, pulling me towards the bed. I smiled at him and instead tugged hard on his hand, reigning him back in towards me. With his body flush against mine I plundered his mouth and pawed at his ass, reveling in the interesting texture of the lace panties and his soft skin. I walked him towards the bed, step by step, never disconnecting our mouths until the back of his legs were against the bed and I pushed him onto the mattress.

He was such a sight. His dark, messy hair fanned around him. His cheeks and chest were flushed. His hooded, cobalt eyes sparkled like a night sky, and his golden skin shone with sweat. I noticed he had shaved his legs, but I didn't want to make a big deal about it – I was just happy he was comfortable with doing that for me as a little surprise.

His lips were full and wet; irresistible. The tip of his arousal peeked out under the hem of the lace, equally begging for some loving attention. I leaned over him and latched onto a nipple, suckling, licking and grazing it with my front teeth. He squirmed under me and arched his back off the bed.

When I moved across his chest to the other, I muttered appreciatively. "I am the luckiest motherfucker ever…"

My boyfriend didn't say anything; he bit back a moan instead. Slowly, I moved down and lowered myself onto my knees between his legs hanging over the edge of the bed. I placed hot kisses down his abdomen and my bangs tickled his skin. He propped himself up on his elbows and stared at me with his darkened eyes.

I met his gaze as I mouthed him through the lace. Following the shaft up to the head, which I gave a little lick. I smirked when he threw his head back and opened his mouth with a soundless moan. "You want the D?" I teased.

"No, I want you," he growled in response.

"Get it anyway."

He gave me an are-you-fucking-kidding-me look, but could tell from my devilish eyes that there was no point to argue with me. With a groan he moved; he crawled further up the bed, giving me an intentional eyeful of his ass in that sexy underwear. He ripped the drawer of the left bedside table open and practically flung the vibrator my way, with clear disdain. I was barely able to catch it and laughed as I watched him sulk. I got up from the floor and ordered him to lay on the bed, on his stomach. He gave me a dangerous look but did as instructed, lying down in the center of the mattress, the legs crossed at the ankle in a show of defiance. I chuckled and climbed onto the bed.

Taking hold of his ankles, I made him spread his legs – he offered little resistance. I twisted the bottom of the vibrator, switching it on in a low setting, and settled myself between his legs. I placed the tip of the vibrator on the back of his neck and slowly dragged it down his spine. He visibly tensed up.

I leaned over him and whispered in his ear: "Why do you dislike the D so much? He dutifully kept you company all this time." The vibrator reached the small of his back and I slowed its descent even more, taking my time to tease him.

"It's your fault," he accused. "You fuck me so good, nothing else is ever going to be good enough."

I groaned. "Shit, Heero." I rewarded him by running the vibrator down the cleft of his ass, and then used the tip to massage his perineum. I grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled his face up from the pillow to kiss his mouth, his jaw and his neck.

He pushed back against the toy and warned me: "You better not let me down after a hundred fucking days."

I let out a hearty laugh. "No pressure though," I deadpanned. I tossed the vibrator aside and he sighed with relief knowing I wouldn't tease him with it any further. I moved further down the bed and placed a chaste, ticklish kiss on each ass cheek before slowly peeling the lace down to his thighs.

"Where's the lube?" I didn't wait for him to answer; I reached into the drawer and produced a half-empty bottle of lubricant. I noticed a picture frame on the nightstand, but instead of a photo, it framed the letter I had Trowa deliver to him when it seemed like everything had fallen apart. It warmed my heart to see my words there – my first confession of my love to him – as the first thing he saw every morning, and the last thing he saw every night. I didn't say anything about it, but I knew he knew I had seen it.

I shook the bottle and teased: "You've been keeping busy."

"Nnn…"

With my digits generously coated I pressed my index and middle finger into his opening, loving the low, drawn-out moan he produced. He sounded so much better in real life than over the phone – the sound was so deep and smooth. As I fingered him, I palmed myself through my briefs to relieve some of the urgency I was feeling. When I was satisfied he was ready and we both couldn't wait any longer, I stepped off the bed and out of my underwear.

After half a second of contemplation, I grabbed his legs and pulled him towards the edge of the bed, and twisted his body around to lie on his back. I placed both of his calves over my right shoulder and left the flimsy, red lace around his thighs. He handed me the lube that was out of my reach after our relocation and I carelessly poured the clear gel onto myself; most of it dripped off my cock and onto the floor – luckily hardwood, not the fuzzy carpet a few feet over.

"Ready?" I needlessly asked.

"So ready."

I placed a kiss on his shin and thrust my hips forward, easily uniting us again – finally.

"Aahh!"

"Is that better, baby?"

"Ohh, it's so much better. Fuck! I hate that fucking vibrator."

With one arm encircling his legs – holding them in place against me – and my free hand grasping at his hip, I rocked in and out of him. I smiled when his hand reached for mine and he intertwined our fingers. His other hand was buried in his hair. He moaned freely and so did I, finally not having to worry about nosy roommates hearing anything. If we kept it up like that ,it would last even shorter than I feared. I mustered up the willpower to stop and told him to climb further up on the bed.

"Back or stomach?" He asked, as he scooted towards the center of the mattress.

"Back. I wanna kiss you." I literally tore the red panties off him with a feral snarl – I wouldn't come to regret ruining them until later.

I opened up his legs and pushed them down to his chest; entering him again was easy. I locked our lips but our kiss was mostly distracted. Heero delved his fingers into my hair and the pull on the strands was sometimes painful, but I loved how intense the whole experience was and how needy he was.

"Fuck, I'm not gonna last…" I muttered against his lips. Sweat dripped down my temples and slickened my chest and back. I squeezed my eyes shut and buried my face in the crook of his neck. I tried to fight against the pleasure and not surrender to it yet, but I was fighting a losing battle.

Heero didn't say anything; one of his hands disappeared from my head and snaked between us to wrap around his own erection. As he pumped frantically to get up with me, I felt it bump into my abdomen.

"I'm-!" I couldn't even speak anymore. I gritted my teeth as I teetered on the edge.

"Yeah! Come inside me!"

I'd like to say it were his words that pushed me over the edge, but honestly he could have said anything – like listing the ingredients of laundry detergent – and I still would have reached my climax. I slowed down my movements to long, deep thrusts as I rode the waves of the orgasm, moaning senselessly against his neck. My entire body started to shake with the effort to keep myself propped up and stop myself from collapsing on top of him, which would interfere with Heero finding his own relief.

Not too much later he let out a shrill cry and I felt him tighten around me; with the one hand still in my hair he directed me to kiss him. The open-mouthed kiss was lazy but marked our equal satisfaction.

Finally I let myself drop down on top of him. "Ohhh… I love you…"

"I love you too," he sighed in response, but after a short pause he groused, "but take your dick out and get off of me."

I let out a hearty laugh and did as instructed. I rolled off him to occupy the space of the bed next to him.

"Shit, I forgot how messy this was." With a groan he got up from the bed and walked into the adjoining bathroom, giving me an eyeful of his body and the glistening trail on his inner thigh.

I used my underwear to rub myself clean and quickly got tired of waiting for him. I jumped up and moved to the doorway of the bathroom to watch him take a quick shower. I hadn't intended on washing my hair again that day, but the opportunity looked too good to pass up, so I joined him in the shower stall and we washed each other.

We crawled back in bed naked with our hair still damp and I clung to him. I loved hearing him breathe, feeling the tickle of his wild hair under my chin and tracing shapes on his skin, from one tiny mole to another. We didn't say much, even though we had called, texted, skyped and emailed daily during our agonizing one-hundred-day separation. The only thing I hadn't told him was the offer the professor had made me that day; in that moment I didn't think I was ever going to tell him. Lying with him in bed made the offer – which meant being far away from him – very unappealing and not even worth considering.

Heero slept for about an hour, tired from his work, as I simply lay with him. When he woke up we got dressed and ordered pizza – vegetarian because Heero had made the full switch over the course of the summer. He wasn't much of a meat-eater anyway.

Sitting on the couch with him, fighting over the last slice and who got control over the remote, was the easiest thing in the world. It reminded me of when we used to be just friends. I realized we hadn't had much time to be in a 'real relationship' yet. By the time we transitioned from friends-with-benefits to boyfriends, we only had a couple of weeks left at the college where we met and we were both mostly preoccupied with finishing our final assignments. Heero was, unfortunately, largely against public displays of affection at school. We hadn't even gone on a real date yet. We had had grand plans for the summer, but it fell through every time.

Since we had been apart for so long, I was a little worried what 'being boyfriends' was really going to be like. I knew Heero better than anyone – as my friend and as my lover – but I didn't know what kind of boyfriend he was, and I didn't even know what kind of boyfriend I was, considering my past relationships never lasted long enough. But more than anything, I was excited to find out.

After two movies, we went to bed and made love again; then he fell asleep in my arms for a second time.

In the morning he must have opened the curtains: I could see bright light through my eyelids and I turned my face away from the windows. He had to go to work; I wished I was the kind of romantic that could get out of bed at the crack of dawn and make him breakfast, but getting up early had always been his thing and I hoped he understood. I nuzzled my nose into the pillow that smelled like him and moved my hips, trying to make myself comfortable as my morning wood was sandwiched between my body and the bed.

The mattress dipped and I felt my lover crawl towards me. I smiled and groaned into the pillow when his weight settled on the small of my back. Two warm hands took hold of my shoulders and massaged gently; I felt a nose against the back of my neck before I felt his lips. His warm breath swooped past my ear, heating it up. The special attention made my morning erection that much more uncomfortable. At that point, it wasn't a physical effect that I could simply sleep off; it had to be dealt with.

"How long do we have before you have to leave for work?" I wondered.

His mouth moved to the shell of my ear and he whispered: "About twenty-three hours."

I cracked my eyes open and looked back at him. "What?"

"I called in sick."

"And they bought that? You calling in sick the day after picking up your 'best friend' at the airport?"

"They have no reason to distrust me. I've never called in sick before."

"Nnnn… And now you have… You're a naughty boy now."

He let out a small laugh and pressed his nose into the side of my neck. "So what do you want to do today?" My rumbling laughter was somewhat muffled by the pillow. "Aside from the obvious, I mean."

"I don't know. Let's deal with the obvious first." I pushed myself up, throwing him off me like a raging bull throwing a cowboy off his back, and I was quick to climb on top of him and pin his wrists down.

We didn't get out of bed until an hour later.

We spent most of the afternoon at the Seattle Art Museum and the Asian Art Museum. Neither of us had been there before; Heero didn't do anything but work so he hadn't explored the city yet. It was fun to get to do that with him. Once we got a fit of the giggles ,we left the serious, quiet environment of the museums and headed out to random places we located on his phone. He wasn't completely comfortable with holding hands out in the streets, but I settled for the permanent smile as we walked closely side-by-side, our shoulders constantly bumping together.

I knew it had been a lonely hundred days for him. I had my roommates, made some casual friends at The Art Institute, and grew close to my professors, almost to the point of considering most of them friends. I was more open and uninhibited so friendships came easy for me; it had always been like. It was different for Heero: he kept to himself, and felt awkward in social situations. It didn't help that he spent nearly every waking moment at work, where he kept the people he spent every day with at arm's length in fear of anyone discovering his sexuality and judging him for it. He also didn't have his swim practice anymore, which used to be his only regular source of social contact in college. Trowa and Quatre hadn't been able to come visit him either. After his graduation, Trowa moved to France with Quatre. They were adventurous and carefree; living in Europe suited them.

Every time Heero looked at me, I could see in those beautiful, blue eyes how happy he was just to have company again and to share his experiences. It was also apparent in the way he got talkative during dinner and wanted me to try every delicious thing on his plate. In that hole-in-the-wall restaurant I realized I had to forget about Columbus. I had to fully commit to making Seattle my home and being with Heero. He needed me, and even though I hadn't been lonely in Columbus, I hadn't been happy either – not without him. I needed him just as much.

It was the perfect day and I was happier than I had ever been.

But then, the perfect day ended.

When I woke up on Friday, the bedroom was still dark, but I activated my phone which informed me that it was 10 am. The apartment was silent; Heero had gone off to work about two and a half hours ago. I hadn't even heard him leave.

I took a deep breath, then kicked my legs over the edge of the bed and got up with a groan. My muscles were sore from walking around all day and fucking Heero hard when we finally went to bed at one in the morning. I felt bad knowing how tired and sore he must have been – climbing out of bed at whatever ungodly hour – having only gotten a few hours of sleep after getting pounded into the mattress.

I had yet to unpack so I pulled a clean pair of underwear, my sweatpants and a comfortable college vest out of my duffel bag and dressed myself haphazardly before shuffling into the kitchen for much needed coffee, making a mental note to remind myself to ask Heero where I'd find the nearest coffee shop. In the mornings I needed proper coffee, not the home-brew stuff. I frowned when a yellow post-it note on the fridge came in focus. In Heero's controlled handwriting it read:

 _I would have gotten you coffee but it would be cold by now anyway, so I got you orange juice instead and all you have to do is press the silver button on the coffee machine for your morning shot of caffeine._

 _Oh and a muffin. I got you a muffin too._

 _I'll be home around six._

I shook my head at him but was grateful of him taking care of me, even in just that small way. It used to be me getting him food, making sure he had his three meals a day. The muffin was waiting for me by the coffee machine. I pressed the silver button and the machine hummed to life; after a few seconds the dark liquid was poured into the awaiting mug. In the meantime, I peeled the paper off the muffin and took the first bite. After pouring myself a big glass of orange juice as well, I walked all three items to the couch and turned on the TV.

Lunch was postponed until two because I was too lazy to get up, even though there was nothing interesting to watch. It consisted of a simple grilled cheese sandwich and another glass of orange juice, both consumed in front of the TV.

Eventually I decided to unpack my bag so at least I wouldn't have to confess that I did absolutely nothing the entire day. Heero had either made room for me in the bedroom closet, or his clothes had simply never taken up more space. I had three shelves, a two-foot stretch of clothing rack, and two and a half drawers in the dresser that I still planned to fuck him against. I needed less than a fourth of all that space for my clothes and less than ten minutes to unpack.

Pepe, the stuffed animal – a penguin – from my youth was at the very bottom of the bag. With a grin I placed him on the bed for that "Duo-touch" the apartment definitely lacked. Another cherished item was a double picture frame. The frame itself was elegant enough, but the pictures not so much: one was the picture of myself at fat camp; the other was of a young Heero dressed as a girl for the school play, the very one he used as a bargain with Nash to protect my ego. The frame got an honorary place on the dresser.

I spent the remainder of the afternoon doing some online shopping without ever committing to a purchase. Just like I had done at college, I worked as a bartender all summer. With my workload, though, there weren't many hours in the week left to make money. I had barely made enough to cover expenses; there were about two hundred dollars left in my account.

Money wasn't an issue for Heero. His job paid remarkably well and the costs of his car were fully covered by the company. Even though he had only started working at the company at the start of summer, he got a summer bonus just like every other employee – approximately the amount of one month's salary – and was expected to get a pretty substantial bonus come Christmas, thanks to his important contributions to the project. It was a little weird for me to see the roles reversed like that. I used to be the one with the money to spend. It wasn't necessarily a bad change, but I didn't want to become the trophy wife that lived off Heero's hard work. Not because I was too proud, but because I would get too bored.

At around five thirty, I ventured outside looking for a supermarket. During my phone calls with Heero over the past summer he had mentioned there was a small 24/7 Asian market "just around the corner"; I figured I'd surprise him by cooking him a vegetarian type of _Nabemono_ – a Japanese one-pot dish – in spite of the fact that I was a horrible cook. How hard could a one-pot dish be? Sure enough I found the market pretty quickly; it really was "just around the corner". The clerk enthusiastically helped me navigate the cramped aisles and collect the appropriate items. When he kept wanting to get me to buy beef for the dish, it was a little difficult to explain to him that it needed to be vegetarian. That part got lost in translation, but eventually we managed and he proudly walked me to a shelf with plenty of tofu to choose from.

Pleased with myself, I returned to the apartment – very nearly walking in the opposite direction of where I needed to go when I stepped out of the store – a little before six o'clock and started dicing the vegetables and combining everything in the big pan, adding the spices to it according to a recipe I had found online. I was a little startled when I glanced at the microwave and noted the time. I had been so absorbed in my cooking that I had lost track of time. It was a quarter to seven and I was still all alone in the fifty-shades-of-grey apartment. I patted myself down in search of my phone only to realize it was right in front of me on the counter because I had been using it as a timer. I checked my messages, but he hadn't texted and there were no missed calls either.

I walked to the fridge where the cute note still stuck to the stainless steel surface.

"I'll be home around six," I read aloud. I thought that I might have misread it that morning – it was pre-caffeine after all – but the note definitely said "six".

My phone shrieked and I bolted towards it. But it was the timer. Dinner was ready.

I just stood there with the thing in my hand, contemplating my next move. Even though we had texted so often the past hundred days, I worried about coming across pushy or needy if I texted him to ask him when he'd be home.

While I was weighing my options, the phone shrieked again and that time it was a call.

Heero's name and a picture of him making a silly face appeared on the screen. I waited three rings, childishly concerned with not wanting him to know I had been standing there with the phone already in my hand. "Hey, babe."

" _I'm so sorry,"_ he blurted in a hushed tone, he was clearly still at the office. _"I forgot."_

"About me?" I had meant it as a joke, but it sounded like a loaded question.

" _Of course not. I forgot I wrote I'd be home at six and I've been so preoccupied I forgot to text."_

"It's okay," I said and I wanted to mean it. "When do you think you'll be home?"

" _We've had a bit of a snafu. We've been working on the code all day to fix a minor glitch, and since we've rebooted, the whole software has been going crazy. One of the rotors was going haywire: the friction overheated and completely wrecked the engine. We might've destroyed the prototype that Kovalyov was supposed to showcase in Warshaw next week. He is so angry."_ Heero was rambling, his anxiety apparent. He was under so much pressure and I knew how much a mistake like that stressed him out. He always blamed himself if something went wrong since he was the youngest, least experienced of the team; Kovalyov, although having personally offered Heero the position, readily used him as a scapegoat to vent his frustrations in the heat of the moment.

"It's going to be okay, Heero. It wasn't your fault."

" _Maybe if I had just gone to work yesterday…"_

"That has nothing to do with this. If anything, it probably means someone else screwed up."

" _But maybe if I had been here-"_

"Baby, just calm down," I tried, feeling guilty even though I also hadn't done anything wrong. "Just breathe. You'll get a new engine, you'll fix the software, and Kovalyov can go to Poland next week and take credit for your hard work. It's going to be fine."

He let out a nervous sigh, unconvinced. _"I don't think I'll be home for a few more hours."_

"That's okay. I'll just order a pizza and veg-out on the couch." I didn't want him to know that I had made dinner for us, he was frazzled enough as it was. "I love you."

A pleasant sigh then. _"I-"_ He stopped himself as a coworker must have interrupted his privacy and he simply said: _"Bye."_

I pocketed my phone and stared at the meal. It smelled really good, but I had lost my appetite for it. I transferred everything into a big plastic container and stored it in the fridge, saving it for another time. I ended up eating pizza for dinner…again.

Bored with reruns of sitcoms I must have fallen asleep, until indiscriminate noises from the kitchen woke me up. I cracked my eyes open – the entire living room was dark, save for a single light source pouring in from the kitchen. Heero's jacket was draped over me, pleasantly smelling of him. I watched him silently as he produced the meal I had prepared from the refrigerator and served himself a portion in a ceramic bowl. He then proceeded to put the bowl into the microwave as quietly as possible, visibly wincing at the beeps of the machine as he adjusted the settings.

"Hey," I croaked and cleared my throat.

He straightened up. "I'm sorry," was the first thing he said.

"For what?" My shoulder ached from sleeping several hours on the uncomfortable couch but I didn't feel like getting up.

"For being late. For waking you up." He stood in the kitchen sheepishly with his hands tucked into the front pockets of his slacks. With his elbow he gestured towards the microwave. "You made _Motsunabe_."

I smiled, if only because I adored how he pronounced words of his native language. "Yeah, but with tofu."

" _Motsunabe_ is a dish originally from Fukuoka, where I'm from."

"I know."

He smiled. "Arigatou."

"Hmm. You're welcome." I pushed myself upright and stretched out my limbs with a groan.

The microwave beeped – Heero got the bowl and a pair of chopsticks and walked over to the living room area. He sat down on the floor on the opposite side of the glass coffee table, folding his legs under him. "Would you like some?"

I shook my head. "I'm still stuffed with pizza."

He made an appreciative sound as he chewed on the first bite. "It's really good."

"I'm glad you like it." I was kind of proud of myself, so I couldn't help the smirk.

We sat together in the dimly lit space and I watched him eat for a minute before I asked: "What time is it?" I adjusted his jacket in my lap, hugging it to my chest and sniffing the collar.

"I don't know exactly, but I left the office at precisely midnight."

"Jesus. How did it go?"

He took a few more bites first. "We probably can't get a new engine before the tech conference in Warshaw."

"Shit."

"Yeah. Kovalyov is really mad at me, especially for not being there yesterday. Franco misread my notes…" He brought one hand up and rubbed his temple. "I don't know…"

"That was Franco's mistake and Kovalyov can't be mad at you for being sick. He doesn't know you weren't really sick."

"I didn't call in sick," he confessed miserably. "I planned to have the day off weeks ago. I had to miss that last weekend we planned to meet because of it; in return for getting yesterday off, Kovalyov made me work that Saturday. He kind of tricked me into that, but I shouldn't have lied – I'm sorry. He gave this whole speech about 'this is why we have a schedule'."

I lowered myself onto the floor between the couch and the coffee table and gave him a stern look. "I know you praise him for being the sun and the moon and the stars because he got you this job, but you have to realize by now that he's a selfish prick and he didn't offer you the job as a favor to you; he recruited you because you are fucking good at what you do. But he puts way too much pressure on you and he is totally misusing you since he knows damn well you feel like you owe him. You're entitled to a day off every now and then without having to work overtime to compensate."

He made a face. He didn't like this conversation – we've had it before.

"You're letting everyone at that place trample all over you!" I was getting heated. He was allowing himself to get hurt by these people because he was so afraid of jeopardizing this supposedly amazing opportunity. "There's a difference between being grateful and being a pushover."

"I'm not a pushover!" he snapped. "Fuck you!... Shit." He buried his face in his hands and took a moment. "I'm sorry," he said, lowering his hands; I couldn't tell if he was being genuine. "I didn't mean to yell. It's been a long day…"

"I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have said that. I just hate seeing you like this. I'm not used to being front and center for this: seeing how late you get home, and how on-edge and overworked you are."

"It would be like this at any job. I want to prove myself. I want to be the best. It's not only about paying Kovalyov back for giving me this chance – it's also about doing something I can be proud of. That takes hard work. You know what it's like, it's the same with your art. You strive for perfection."

My art was a bit of a raw topic – everything considered – but I used the example to emphasize my point. "Yeah, but the only one putting pressure on me is me. I don't have some Russian tough-love guy breathing down my neck and a coworker that blames me for everything."

"This company is the best, a leader in the global market. And Kovalyov is the best; he's like the Steve Jobs of artificially intelligent aerotech. If I want to be the best, I need to be _here_ and learn from _him_."

"Okay," I said meekly. I didn't want to fight with him. Not only because it was late and I didn't want to cause any friction between us, but also because I couldn't trust myself to be completely objective with regards to the issue. I didn't want to risk manipulating him, to make decisions because they would suit me – like give up his hellish job and come to Columbus with me instead. That was a silly and selfish thought, but I couldn't deny that it had crossed my mind during our discussion.

"Let's go to bed," I said mildly after a moment of silence, hoping the air cleared quickly.

Heero groaned and let himself fall back onto the floor. "I'm too tired to go to bed."

I chuckled, relieved there was no residual awkwardness or tension. I got up from the floor, walked around the table and, without giving him a chance to protest or resist, I scooped him up in my arms. Biting back a grunt, and carried him to the bedroom like a bride. He halfheartedly hit me in my chest but didn't put up much of a fight. In the bedroom we undressed each other and tumbled onto the bed to lazily make-out for a few minutes, not letting it become too intense to the point of no return. We were both too tired for anything more than openmouthed kisses and above-the-belt groping.

Heero didn't sleep at all that night. He was tossing and turning beside me. I tried to soothe him with soft touches to his arm and light kisses, but he was unable to relax. At some point I had fallen asleep, in spite of my determination to support him.

The next morning, I woke up alone again and there was another post-it on the fridge:

 _Sorry, I forgot to tell you he made us come in today. I'll try not to be home too late. I'll text, I promise._

I wasn't surprised. It wasn't uncommon for Kovalyov to call the team in to work on Saturdays, often even on Sundays too. Heero kept trying to convince me that things would be better once this project got wrapped up, but I didn't believe it even though I acknowledged that he might. There was always going to be a deadline that would cause him to push himself too hard and expect too much of himself. It was no different from college so it shouldn't bother me – we were both used to this, to him having little time off – but it did bother me and I couldn't rationally explain it.

Not willing to surrender to another day wasting away on the couch I got dressed, threw together a healthy breakfast with Heero's yoghurt and assortment of fresh fruits, and headed out with no concrete idea of where I was going or what I would be doing. I zigzagged through our neighborhood, trying to get a feel for the place and map out everything.

I was thrilled to find a Starbucks – overpriced coffee always hit the spot. I found a seat by the windows and nursed an oversized shot of caffeine-to-go, not in any hurry to go anywhere. As I sat there, it started to rain and the whole street became tones of grey, like our apartment. I didn't have an umbrella with me, so once I finished my coffee I simply pulled my hood up and stepped into the pouring rain. I didn't mind it much.

I ventured further and further away and initially walked right past a home-interior store but I doubled back and stepped inside. It was a fun little store, with unique and colorful items that had a real personality to them. On a whim I purchased a big rug with a geometric pattern in several shades of a deep, eggplant purple, figuring it would add some necessary color to the apartment. The clerk offered to have it delivered, but the rolled-up item wasn't too heavy and wrapped in plastic anyway so I opted to carry it, saving myself the additional cost. I regretted that decision when I got turned around and it took me over an hour to find my way back home. Halfway I took a break on a park bench, sitting there in the rain, with the rug propped up next to me.

Home at last I wasted no time getting the coffee table out of the way, rolling out the rug and rearranging some furniture around until I was satisfied.

"Dat couch tho," I muttered to myself. I wasn't going to spend any money on a new couch when this one was serviceable enough, especially since I didn't have any money left to spend.

Heero texted me at four pm that he would be home at five.

Half an hour later, he texted me to tell me he'd be home around six thirty.

Two hours later, he simply texted _Sorry…_ and I knew what it meant.

I heated up a serving of _Motsunabe_ from yesterday and had another dinner on the couch, with nobody but caricatures in a popular cartoon to me company.

"Looks like me and you are just gonna have to move past our differences and become buds," I said while patting the stylish but uncomfortable couch.

At around ten pm I straightened up at the jingle of keys and the front door opened. My boyfriend stepped into the apartment, closing the door behind him. He leaned back against it heavily, letting out a deep sigh.

"Hey."

"Hey," he returned. His head dropped down, his features hidden behind his bangs. "I'm sorry…"

"That's okay." I wasn't about to go in for a round two of our discussion from last night. He looked so tired and miserable. "How did it go?" I inquired carefully. Suddenly, he let out a sob and hunched over further. His hands moved to cover his face as he cried from stress and exhaustion.

I jumped up immediately and hurried towards him. "Ohh baby, it's okay. Shhh…" I tried to comfort him as I took him into my arms and felt him shake.

He pressed his face into my chest as he held onto a fistful of shirt on my back. "I don't… want to disappoint anyone…" he barely managed.

"Kovalyov – and the entire team for that matter – is lucky to have you," I reassured him. "Nobody is as dedicated as you."

"But I don't want to disappoint you either," he whimpered.

I squeezed him tightly before pulling back a little so I could look him in the eye. "You're not a disappointment," I stressed. "I don't want you to worry about that."

"But now you're finally here and I'm not here! And I have to go to work again tomorrow."

I didn't let my sadness show; instead, I forced on a smile. "That's alright. I don't want you to worry about me, or about us. I'm here and I'm not going anywhere. We'll have plenty of time." I cupped his face and wiped away both trails of tears with my thumbs.

After guiding him to the couch with an arm around his shoulder, I went to heat up more Motsunabe for him. As I stood in front of the microwave – lost in thought – watching the bowl slowly spin around in the machine, Heero suddenly remarked: "You bought a rug."

I smiled at him – I was wondering how long it would take him to notice it. "Yeah."

"It's very purple," he observed dryly.

I chuckled and conceded again: "Yeah."

"… I like it."

I quirked an eyebrow at him. "Yeah?"

"It's very you."

"Hmm, good answer." The microwave beeped and I brought him his belated dinner.

He fell asleep that night, snuggled up against me: his head tucked under my chin, his arm across my chest, one of his legs draped over one of mine.

The next morning, he was gone before I woke up. I made the conscious decision to believe that it was a temporary situation and that he would have more free time once this first project was completed. In the meantime, I needed a purpose in my own life to keep myself from going bat-shit crazy.

Determined not to give up on my dream of one day being able to earn money with my art, I applied for any and every entry-level, art-related job in the city: reception clerk at galleries, teaching art classes to ten-year olds at the local activity center; from janitor at the Seattle Art Museum to personal assistant to SAM's art curator. Every time I received a very polite letter a few days later to inform me that other candidates were a more appropriate or more qualified fit.

I also explored the career opportunities in urban planning and architecture, but my lack of passion was reflected in my mediocre college grades and lackluster involvement in the kind of extra-curricular activities that future employers liked to see on a recent graduate's résumé. I landed a few interviews thanks to my participation at the summer program of the Columbus Art Institute, and the glowing recommendations my professors had given me. Still, as they leafed through my portfolio, it became apparent to them that my architectural design skills were uninspiring and anything other than 'scholarly' – to put it nicely. A few days later I got that familiar letter.

It was frustrating, and difficult to talk to Heero about it. More and more I couldn't keep thoughts of Professor Pereira's offer from the forefront of my mind. I didn't know what to do; there were no guarantees in art. Even if I did go and manage to complete the advanced two-year program successfully, it still wouldn't mean that I could become a successful artist. It'd probably be nothing more than a difference between a one-in-a-billion shot and a one-in-a-million shot - if even that. It was too ridiculous to even give the idea any serious thought.

I wanted to be with Heero – for a hundred days, I yearned to just be with him again. Why would I ever sacrifice that for a one-in-a-million chance at becoming an artist? Yet…my hunger and drive to learn more and explore could not be quelled by my love for Heero, or the happiness I felt curling up on that awful couch with him and – later – making love in our bed.

I thought having Heero would be enough, but something was missing. I wanted to believe it was because he always worked late and was too tired to go out. I wanted to believe that it would eventually solve itself – once this project ended, it would get better! – but that wasn't it.

I missed the feeling that I had all summer long: the confidence that my art was developing and improving with every class. It had been such a great feeling; it made me love art that much more because it made me more fearless. Even when I made a mistake, I knew the professors would help me learn from it and I wouldn't make that same mistake again.

Since arriving in Seattle two months ago, I only picked up a pencil twice, and made two incomplete drawings that I didn't want to finish.

It was no fun drawing Heero either; his eyes were so different now that he was tired all the time. I didn't doubt that, if it were me faced with his challenges, I would've called it quits long ago. Heero, however, was still driven and honored to be part of the team Kovalyov had recruited him into. Part of me suspected that Kovalyov had become a kind of substitute father-figure that Heero aimed to please – considering that his biological parents had distanced themselves from him. Still, that didn't mean his determination and devotion to his work were disingenuous.

I couldn't make a case that my art was more important than Heero, or that my art meant more to me than his job meant to him. It was all too different – there was no way to quantify the parameters and calculate the best solution. I wanted to be with Heero, but I also wanted to invest in my art. Heero wanted to be with me, but he also wanted to keep his job.

Where did that leave us? I didn't want to think about it anymore, and I definitely didn't want to talk about it.

When I started applying for jobs at bars and cafés, I quickly learned what it was like to be a sought-after commodity. I received enthusiastic calls about my application, and I had plenty of options to choose from. There was a smidgen of pride involved in that.

I accepted a bartending position at _Tag_ , a sort of sports bar-meets-gay bar: steering away from stereotypes and embracing the masculinity of homosexual men, along with a friendly and approachable atmosphere. Just as promised, the tips were great. The hours… not so much. Basically, whenever Heero was home – evenings and sometimes the weekends – I was at work, and vice versa. It became another issue neither of us wanted to address. I stopped badgering Heero about standing up for himself at work, and kept my mouth shut about the scholarship. In return, he didn't comment on us hardly seeing each other anymore.

It was almost as bad as when we were living thousands of miles apart.

He didn't say anything when I'd wake him up at four in the morning by rolling into bed next to him, and I didn't say anything when he happened to wake me up by getting up at six for work. Some mornings we would have sex – either when I came home or when he was about to leave – but other than moaning each other's' names, we didn't say anything.

It was worse than when we were living thousands of miles apart.

After a few weeks, it occurred to me that I was sabotaging our relationship by working at the bar, so I quit; I told Heero I got fired. Instead, I got a job at a lunchroom serving stale grilled cheese sandwiches to cheapskates. I resented the work, but the positive effect of the change was instant. Heero's work schedule had normalized, we were living _together,_ and we started working our way through the apartment, christening every room like I had described to him.

When Christmas came around, I talked him into getting a big tree for the living room. We decorated it with ostentatious, cheap ornaments. I got him a simple, titanium ring, partly so his coworkers and everyone else would at least know that he was with someone, even if they'd likely never meet me. More importantly, I wanted him to know – at every moment of every day – that he was coming home to someone. He snorted at the sentiment and made a sarcastic joke about it at least being better than a vibrator – my gift of choice last Christmas, when our lives were so very different – but I knew he loved the romantic gift. When we made love that night, he cradled one hand in the other and kept touching the ring, reassured by it and what it represented.

The next morning it was time for me to unwrap my present: an elaborate, professional set of art supplies. Acrylic paints, watercolors, oil colors, tons of brushes, masking fluid, canvases, pencils, sketchpads, a palette, brush cleaner, and everything else I could possible need, including a funny apron to protect my clothes.

"Thank you." I leaned in and kissed him sweetly.

"I thought you could use some quality materials. I haven't seen you draw much and you haven't painted at all. And I figured that they probably spoiled you at The Art Institute with the good stuff," he explained his choice with an endearing smile.

That wasn't the problem at all…but now was the worst possible time to tell him I was trying to let go and give up pursuing my art. I didn't feel like I had the right to consider myself anything but a hobbyist. I needed to take a break and come back to it only when I could accept it was never meant to be anything serious.

We played with the materials, and ended up smearing paint on each other and laughing at the "body art" we created.

How could I possibly not be fully satisfied with a life like this?

I felt guilty and selfish for wishing for more. I had known from a young age not to expect too much out of life or love, but I was so in love with Heero that it never before occurred to me that my life with him might not be perfection. Problems kept arising and interfering with our bliss: Heero not being able to admit to himself that he could be gay; me making a stupid video of us that got spread around campus; the demands of school; having different aspirations that led us in different directions… To think that, in comparison, we had it easy when we were still in college – at least then, it was easy to spend time together, and our aspirations naturally had us rooted in the same place – was mind boggling, and made me regret all the more how long it took for us to realize that we were always meant to be more than friends. Of those four years we only got to be "together" for a few weeks, before matters got even more complicated.

I didn't want any more regrets and I knew risking my relationship to go back to art school could potentially be the biggest regret in my life.

Once we cleaned ourselves up, I gathered up the art supplies and neatly stored them on a high shelf in the laundry room. It wasn't like I'd never draw or paint again, I just needed some time. I needed January to come and go, and for the offer to be off the table forever. Then I could move on, and start thinking about playing with my new brushes and paints.

Being an adult is a pain.

* * *

It was early January and I had just finished my first day of the year at the lunchroom. Afterward, I left to meet up with Heero at a bar close to his office. We had talked about it for months, and finally were actually going out for a casual dinner. Heero would have to go back to the office afterward, making the bar the perfect location. I applied for a job there a few months ago – exactly because it was close to Heero and I figured we could have lunch together – but he told me not to because, more often than not, the team ate a quick cafeteria lunch at their desks, too swamped with work to take a proper break. I understood that to mean that he was too self-conscious about leaving the office to have lunch with me every day because his coworkers might take notice; that was why, at the time, I took the job at the gay bar instead. Still though, it had seemed like a really fun bar; they boasted about having the best spare ribs in town – and the best French fries for my vegetarian soulmate.

I stepped onto the bus and patted myself down, looking for a phone. My face got flustered when I couldn't find it…then remembered that I had forgotten to charge it overnight. My brilliant idea that morning was to hook it up to the charger while I got ready for work, but I mistakenly left the device on the kitchen counter. I hoped Heero wasn't held up at work because if he might have tried to text or call me, I wouldn't know. I was running a little late myself.

The bus stopped two blocks away from the bar and I actually walked past the office building where Heero worked on my way there. My hands were tucked deep into the pockets of my long coat. The Seattle winter was cold and grey, without much snow – maybe only a day or two. It was either dry and bitterly cold, or it rained while the air wasn't cold enough to cool the water drops into snowflakes.

It was pleasantly warm in the bar and more than anything, the welcoming atmosphere enveloped me; the patrons were chattering incoherently and every now and then a laugh resounded. The large bar took up the majority of the floorplan with space for about 20 stools. There were cozy booths in the back, away from the big windows, dimly lit by orange art deco wall lamps. In the front were a couple of small, quaint tables for two. The place was absolutely packed and it smelled of wood, grease and beer – I loved it. It reminded me a lot of the on-campus bar.

I spotted my boyfriend seated at the bar; his back was turned towards me but his messy mop of hair and shapely silhouette were unmistakable. I unbuttoned my coat and fretted with my hair on the way over to him, smoothing down fly-aways while bypassing the little tables. The seats on either side of him were taken. So I slipped between him and the person on his left and made my presence known with a hand that started on his right shoulder but dragged down to the small of his back.

"Couldn't save me a seat?" I purred teasingly.

Heero turned his head to face me with a horrified expression; he quickly recovered and forced on a smile as he spoke: "Duo, these are my colleagues," he nodded at the dirty-blonde man on the stool left of him that I had blocked and the short-haired girl to his right, the Korean man next to her, and an older man one stool further. "Franco Beech, Melanie Sovány, Bu Seong-min and Will Cohen."

I quickly removed my hand from Heero's back and extended it towards Mel to shake her hand, and gave Seong-min and Will a friendly nod as they were the colleagues Heero mostly spoke fondly of. Franco got nothing more than a glance over my shoulder.

"Didn't you get my text message?" Heero mildly inquired, hiding his panic well enough for the others to not be able to tell.

"I left my phone at home this morning. Sorry..."

"Why, did you tell your friend not to come because we showed up?" Melanie spoke in a loud, grating voice, but with a genuine smile. "Too cool for the geek-squad, Yuy?" She prodded his ribs with her elbow, unable to tell that the physical contact made him uncomfortable.

"Not at all," Heero defended, "I just thought it would be boring for him if we started talking shop, that's all."

"Then we won't talk shop; let's talk about something else. It's not every day that I'm surrounded by beautiful men." She paused and then added with a wink: "And it's cool that Will is here too."

The crew laughed, except Heero – he chewed on the inside of his cheek.

I used the moment to study the group and Mel was right: the team debunked the nerdy stereotype. Obviously, Heero was drop-dead gorgeous – no surprises there – but Seong-min was also very attractive with his black, slanted eyes, high cheekbones and swept-back raven hair. Franco was also, admittedly, easy on the eyes: tall and built, his nose was crooked but suited the roughness of his face; his square jaw balanced out his features. Cohen was older, with a bit of a belly and a button-front shirt that he must have picked out the dirty laundry pile that morning: wrinkly and with a stain on the sleeve that he had tried to cover up with a French roll. Mel herself looked to be athletic, outgoing and 'stylishly geeky' with a black-rimmed pair of glasses that were big for her face but on trend, a grandma sweater with the collar of a skull-patterned button-up peeking out, and short hair with shaved sides.

They looked like a pretty interesting group of people. Even though Heero mentioned their names countless of times, I knew very little about them, aside from their professional expertise. It'd do Heero some good if he would allow himself to befriend them. I regretted that he didn't feel safe and secure enough with his own sexuality to let these people get close.

"You have very interesting hair," a deep voice said, then Franco flicked the end of my braid. My body went stiff; I felt violated.

I turned slowly to face him. "Thanks," I said, but it sounded more like: "Keep your fucking hands to yourself, fucking twit."

"So you're the artsy friend from Columbus," he continued, ignoring Mel, who enthusiastically agreed that Duo had wonderful hair, oblivious to the mind-games the bully was trying to play.

"Yeah, sure am."

"Some friendship you guys have," he drawled and took a sip of the beer in front of him, slyly grinning at himself. "To follow Heero to the other side of the country."

"Oh, I'm sorry," I said and flagged the bartender as he raced by to order a drink.

Franco frowned. "For what?"

"You've obviously never had a real friend."

Franco made a face that caused Will, at the end of the bar, to nearly choke on his club soda.

"What can I get ya?" Asked the cute bartender.

"A _Cosmopolitan_ ," I ordered purposefully, paying no heed to the stares I was getting, even as Heero was one of the people staring.

The bartender didn't miss a beat. "Sure thing, coming right up." He left to fix my drink and returned shortly with a cocktail glass, filled to the brim with the pink liquid, decorated with a slice of lime and a curled piece of orange peel.

"Thanks man," I raised my glass in a toast to the others before taking the first sip. I had cosmos before – working as a bartender I wanted to know what the different cocktails tasted like and I actually liked the taste of them, I just never ordered them because it wasn't socially acceptable for a man to do so. That was precisely the reason why I ordered it then. If Heero was too afraid of how his colleagues could react to him coming out, I felt I could use the opportunity to test the waters for him and hopefully show him that the group wasn't as biased as he feared.

Mel leaned in curiously. "What do you do for a living? Something having to do with art, I presume?"

The drink was sweet but I couldn't stop myself from making a bitter face in response to her question. I was quick to hide it behind a cheeky smile. "Uhm, no, I'm a waiter. But I'm not really a waiter," I added with a wink, playing on the known trope.

"That must be quite the adjustment. Going from being an art student in Columbus to a waiter in Seattle. Will actually lived pretty close to Columbus, didn't you?" She turned to address the older man at the other end.

Will nodded. "Wheeling. When I worked for Blue Avionics, in Pittsburgh. My wife is from Columbus."

"Small world," I remarked.

Mel continued her inquiry: "How are you liking Seattle so far?"

"Pretty good. The weather is not as bad as I thought. Not as much rain."

Melanie nodded. "Where do you live?"

I answered before I had time to think of a strategic answer. "With Heero." I could tell right away that I had said the wrong thing: my boyfriend poorly hid his shame and discomfort and reached for his glass of sparkling water.

Mel and the others frowned at the answer.

"Yeah, he's been letting me crash at his place 'till I find a place of my own," I tried to salvage.

"But haven't you been here since October of last year?" Franco countered.

I turned around and spotted his knowing smirk. "Making rent as a waiter is kind of a tall order. Luckily, Heero is patient with me." I casually patted his back and felt how tense he was. He wouldn't look at me, he just stared into his glass.

Mel agreed without any suspicion. "Totally. I remember what it was like when I first moved here. Finding an apartment at a decent price was a bloodbath. I was still working at SureTech at the time, you can imagine how well that gig paid. We didn't all come from a fancy place like Blue Avionics."

They all nodded like that was supposed to mean anything.

"Not gonna lie, I considered tripping an old lady down the stairs to get a studio apartment I had my eye on," Seong-min chimed in.

Everything seemed perfectly fine until Franco interrupted: "Heero, isn't your place a one-bedroom apartment though?"

Since Heero was not capable of smoothly brushing off the inquiry, so I supplied in his stead: "Me and his couch are like this," I crossed my index and middle finger.

"I imagine. Three months of couch-surfing is quite the feat," he deadpanned.

"Has anyone ever mentioned your last-name sounds like 'bitch'?" I shot back.

"No."

"Well, not to your face they haven't. But trust me, it has crossed their minds."

The other three laughed – Heero, not so much. "It has," Mel and Seong-min agreed in unison.

"You know, like how I imagine the French would say it? Ou la la, il est un _beeeech_." I snickered into my cosmo but then stopped myself – I shouldn't have done that. It wasn't my intention to instigate anything; I wanted it to be a positive experience to give Heero courage, not a bitch fight.

"What is the French word for 'bitch'?" Mel inquired mirthfully.

"La pouffiasse." French had been one of my many random electives in college. I didn't fool myself into thinking I was fluent in the language, but I made damn sure to know the curse words.

"Pooh-fias!" Mel and Seong-min mirrored. I smiled; they weren't bad people, even though they laughed along with Franco's homophobic jokes. They were just easily amused.

My boyfriend was not amused. Not at all. I switched to pleasant small talk to not agitate him further.

The group ordered ribs, burgers and French fries – and an extra big salad for Heero. We ate at the bar. I was engaged in a loud conversation with Mel and Seong-min and Will occasionally joined in. Heero pretended to be completely focused on his food, while Franco was thoughtfully observing the exchange from behind my back, which I purposefully kept turned towards him, shutting him out. We discussed movies, music, high school crushes, local elections – eventually reviewed the best bars and restaurants in town and I innocently recommended _Tag_ , mostly because I hadn't been to many places and felt awkward not having anything to add to the conversation.

That was when Franco inserted himself into the discussion. "Isn't that a gay bar?"

Heero was shrinking into himself.

I faced Franco fearlessly. "Yeah, it is."

"You go there?"

"I worked there for a while." With the quirk of my eyebrow I challenged him to ask the question.

Challenge accepted. "Are you a fairy?"

"No." Heero's noticeable relief was temporary. "But I am gay."

The fact didn't surprise Franco, but he was caught off guard by my willingness to admit it. "And I'm guessing you'd be the woman?" His eyes darted from my pink drink to my long hair.

"The whole point of being a gay man is that there is 'no woman'."

"Oh? I thought being gay was all about vagina-envy."

I clenched my fists. I shouldn't let him get on my nerves, but he had a real knack for it.

"Jesus, Franco – don't be a dick," Mel chastised as an uncomfortable witness to the pissing contest.

"I'd rather be a dick than a pussy."

I burst: "And I'd rather lick a dick than a pussy. What's your fucking problem with that?"

"I don't have a problem with that. As long as they don't pretend they are still real men."

"Franco, shut your trap! This isn't funny!" Seong-min bellowed.

The blonde snorted. "Don't be so PC, guys. You were all laughing at this shit last week."

"It was funny because we thought you were being harmlessly crude and just saying things for shock value. It's not the same when you're actually trying to offend someone."

I was pleased with the others standing up for me and I hoped Heero took notice of it as well.

But then my boyfriend shot up from his seat and mumbled: "I have to take a piss." He bodily pushed past me to get away from the bar.

"I wonder what his problem is…" Franco sarcastically spoke into his drink.

After a moment of contemplation, I announced I too had go to the restroom and paid no attention to Franco's look. I wormed my way through the crowd to the restrooms in the back. It was only a small space: one stall, two urinals and one sink.

Heero was waiting for me. "What the fuck are you doing?" He demanded.

"Showing you that they aren't as bad as you think. Well, except Franco; he really is a _beeech_." I chuckled sheepishly but my boyfriend was not amused.

"This isn't funny, Duo! I don't want to come out at work."

"And you don't have to if you really don't want to."

He scoffed at my naiveté. "After that little show of yours, they are all going to be thinking the same thing: that I'm gay too."

"So what? Mel, Seong-min and Will seemed cool with the idea of me being gay. They shut down Franco's bullshit."

"But Franco was right! That was the same stuff that usually made them laugh."

"And now they've learned their lesson. Now they realize that the jokes Franco made are offensive. They just needed an eye opener like this. I'm confident it'll be different now. They're not assholes, they were just a little ignorant." I reached for him in an attempt to give him a comforting hug, but he pulled away.

"This was not your decision," he hissed.

"What's the problem? Seriously, I don't understand why you are so upset about this?"

"I don't want people to think less of me! I don't want to keep falling short of expectations!"

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Whose expectations?"

"Everyone's! I'm nothing like what people want me to be – I keep failing! I'm not what my mother wanted me to be; I'm not what my father wanted me to be; I'm not what my grandmother wanted me to be; I'm not what Kovalyov wanted me to be; I'm not what you wanted me to be – I'm tired of being a constant disappointment! For once, I just want to be what they want me to be, no-!"

"Hold on," I interrupted his emotional-fueled ramble. "What do you mean 'you're not what _I_ want you to be'? Why would you think that?"

"I'm not brave like you want me to be; I'm not open like you want me to be; our life together is not what you want it to be," before I could argue with him, he continued: "I can tell that I'm not enough!"

I reeled back at his outburst and my heart broke at the sight of his eyes welling up with tears he refused to shed.

"I want to be enough but I can tell I'm not! I could tell the very first day you came here…"

"You _are_ enough – you're _more_ than enough. You're more than I deserve." I grabbed his shoulders and shook him to emphasize my point.

"Bullshit! Bullshit!" He pushed my hands away. "You're not happy here but I don't know how to make you happy. I don't know what you want, but there is something – something! – and I know that there's nothing I can do."

"I just need some time to adjust," I said in hushed tone, hoping to be able to calm him down. The grungy restroom of a bar was not the place to tell him about the offer that Pereira made me – the offer that would expire by the end of the month.

"You're not painting. You're not drawing," he accused, still fighting back the tears.

"I will, I will." Finally, I was able to wrap my arms around him and pull him into a tight embrace. "I'm sorry… I had no idea-" I cleared my throat, my own emotions getting the better of me, "I had no idea I made you feel this way. I'm sorry, and I'm sorry about pushing you to come out. It's just…" I pulled back just enough to look him in his eyes and felt the stab of a dagger in my heart at the wet trails down his cheeks. "I got the feeling _you_ weren't completely happy. You're always so tired and so stressed, so I-… I wanted to help. I thought I would be helping you."

He pressed his nose into my chest – he didn't want to talk anymore. I held him to me. I thought it was just him who was shaking, but it was me too.

"Let's go home," I muttered into his mop of hair after a while.

"I have to go back to the office."

I sighed and we let go of each other.

Heero went back to the office.

I went back to the apartment, alone.

Once at home, I headed for my phone, still charging on the kitchen counter. When I flicked it on I noticed the missed messages from Heero.

 _We got our dinner break right on time. Heading to the bar now :)_

Then, with a time stamp of only a few minutes later, _I'm sorry. Don't come. My coworkers are here. They won't leave and I can't leave either._

Three minutes after that another _I'm sorry_. He probably thought I was not responding to the message because I was angry.

I had received an email as well. I opened the app and clicked on the new email – my heart rate picking up at the address of the sender: Professor Pereira of the Columbus Art Institute.

 _Duo,_

 _Happy new year. I really wish to hear from you. I had hoped you would have contacted me already with good news. You have until the twenty-eighth; if I don't hear from you by then, I'll have to submit another candidate for the scholarship program._

 _P._

I couldn't decide if the timing was the worst ever or if it was exactly what I needed. Things were fragile between me and Heero, but I couldn't keep denying the yearning I felt to return to the institute and further hone my skills. It was partly because my attempt to move on and invest everything in being with Heero only put more strain on our relationship. He could feel – as much as I could – that I wasn't entirely present. I was shutting myself off from a part of myself: very much willing to make that sacrifice to be with Heero without ever realizing that that part of me was one of the reasons why Heero fell in love with me. I wasn't just shutting myself off from that part, I was taking it away from him as well; the passion and drive that I had never experienced in anything else. If I was allowing myself to become a lesser version of "me", how could I expect it not to affect my connection with Heero?

I ended up on the couch in front of the TV, but pulled my laptop into my lap and did the exact thing that I had been too scared to do for the past few months: I went to the website of the Columbus Art Institute and researched the two-year program. Pereira wasn't exaggerating when he warned me that it would be an intensive program. All the different techniques, styles and applications of art had their own in-depth courses, in addition to countless electives – and I always loved electives. The slideshow of the campus photos at the top of the page were distracting. I missed the school itself and the professors who had so generously assisted me. With a heavy, sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, I realized it felt like home, in a way the apartment didn't.

I scrolled through the career opportunities page. Even if I wouldn't get that one-in-a-million shot at being "discovered" – whatever that meant – at least I'd have a real shot at proving I really wasn't just a waiter. Comic Book Illustrator. Video Game Designer. Storyboard Artist. Graphic Designer. Museum Exhibit Designer. Logo Designer. Book Cover illustrator. Tattoo Artist. Art Therapist. University Art Instructor.

Following an epiphany, I looked into The Art Institute of Seattle but quickly had my hopeful heart stomped on. Yearly tuition fees were approximate thirty-thousand dollars. Based on my father's wealth – even though I was never going to receive another dime from him – I was only eligible for minor financial college aid. I did the math anyway, wondering if we could somehow make it work, but aside from the fact that even Heero's job didn't pay _that_ well, I really wanted to go back to The Art Institute where I had been – where I felt confident, and felt like people had my back and my best interests at heart, and on top of everything, it would be free!

I didn't want to be this aimless not-really-a-waiter type of guy, maybe pedaling my art to tourists at street fairs on the weekends. I desired to achieve something with my art, find a field in which I could excel.

In a way, I was jealous of Heero. He had something to be proud of, a skill that made him unique. I wanted to develop my art so I could have that kind of occupational pride as well and really be me. "Hi, I'm Duo and I'm a waiter?" That wasn't going to work for me in the long run. Maybe I could get a job with my college degree if I stuck to it long enough; if those four years at college taught me anything, it was that I didn't want to be an architect.

There was a nauseous feeling in my stomach. My organs felt inverted and twisted inside-out.

No matter how much I loved Heero, I needed to be more than just "Heero's boyfriend" …but I also didn't want to be "Heero's ex".

There was no doubt in my mind that my relationship with Heero was the most important thing in my life, and instinctually I decided that everything had to make way for us to be together. But it couldn't be all there was; that might work for a couple of years, but if I'd let this chance to finally attend art school slip through my fingers, the what-ifs would always haunt me, and burden us. I'd end up resenting him, even though none of it would be his fault; or he'd end up resenting me for becoming a shadow of my former self that he now has to stay with because I had made this big sacrifice for him.

My heart skipped a beat when I heard the jingle of keys on the other side of the door. I glanced at the clock at the bottom right of the screen and was caught off guard by how late it was. How long had I been sitting there? I snapped my laptop shut and placed it on the coffee table. I put some magazines on it, like I was hiding a murder weapon.

Heero stepped into the apartment and softly closed the door behind him. I couldn't find anything appropriate to say, so I waited in silence. When he finally looked my way, I offered him a smile.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"What are you sitting in the dark for?"

"Oh… I-" I gestured at the TV, "I'm watching a movie." I studied the screen as the scene played out, racking my brain for the title of the flick, should he ask, so I could keep up pretenses. I didn't like this dishonesty between us. We had both been telling little white lies to appease the other, to live up to expectations, like Heero said. But I was the one keeping the big secret and there were no excuses to ease my guilt.

Heero didn't ask about the movie. With a sigh he announced that he was going to take a shower and promptly stalked across the living room to the bedroom. While he showered, I turned on some lights, put my laptop away in a drawer and made two cups of coffee. I settled myself back into the sofa, right as he emerged from the bedroom. "Hey, I made coffee." I nodded at the extra cup on the coffee table.

"Thanks, but I shouldn't. It's late, I need to go to bed ASAP." Still though he sat down on the couch, twisted his body around, and lay down with his head in my lap.

I put my cup down on the end-table next to the couch and easily caressed my fingers through his hair. We stayed quiet for a long time. Although I think we both knew that we needed to talk, neither of us was looking forward to it. He lay there with his eyes closed, enjoying my hand that brushed through his hair. From the way his breathing evened out, I could tell he was about to fall asleep and I toyed with the idea of just letting him, but I had been toting that secret of mine around for too long, putting stress on both of us. The timing wasn't exactly perfect, but there had to be full disclosure between us.

So I said it. "We need to talk."

He cracked his eyes open. "I don't want to talk."

I smiled at his blunt honesty. "Me neither, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't."

"I don't have anything else to say," he responded. "I mean… I am sorry about freaking out earlier today, but I'm just not ready for everyone to know about us. It's none of their business anyway. But I'm not angry anymore. I went back to the office and everything was fine – it doesn't seem like anyone caught on."

I nodded. "I'm glad things didn't get weird at work. I'm sorry too, about putting you in that position. I pushed too hard. I was being a real… _beeech._ I'm sorry _._ "

Heero let out a soft chuckle. "Apology accepted. I'm sorry too."

I smiled at him. "And I accept your apology."

"Then there's nothing left to talk about." He closed his eyes again and pulled my other hand onto his chest, lacing his fingers into mine. "You finish your movie; I'll just sleep here for a little bit."

"But-…" I sighed. "There is something else I have to say." Noting the serious tone in my voice Heero opened his eyes again and sat up. "I've been keeping a secret from you since I moved here because I thought not telling you would be better for us… but that's not fair to either of us."

He stared at me, a myriad of emotions visible in his blue eyes. His expression settled into something angry and betrayed. "There was someone in Columbus?"

My eyes widened. Understanding his train of thought, I was quick to derail it. "No! Nonono, not at all!" I became flustered at the insinuation, hoping I could convince him that nothing of that sort was going on. "Heero, no, there hasn't been anyone else. No one but you."

He trusted me and looked embarrassed about drawing such a rash conclusion. "Then what is it? You're freaking me out."

I adjusted in my seat so I could face him properly. "There is no one in Columbus, but there is something there for me." _Stop being so vague! It's not doing either of you any favors. Spit it out!_ "Professor Pereira – you remember him, right? I mentioned him?" _Don't try to stall, you idiot,_ I chastised myself.

"Yes – why are you stalling?"

I smiled bitterly, then just blurted it all out: "He offered me a full scholarship to the two-year art program at the institute." I studied his face as my words were registered. My heart clenched at the flicker of happiness that appeared then disappeared as quickly as he processed the information. He was happy for me, but then he realized what it meant.

He must have been feeling and thinking so many things, but he decided to ask: "When did he make you that offer?"

"I got an email today," I shook my head – I had to be truthful. "He told me the day I flew out here. He told me that he and the other professors were really impressed by my work and my drive and that they wanted to give me one of the scholarships that they are allowed to give, as members of the scholarship board. I have until the twenty-eighth to decide; the program starts at the end of February."

"You've known since October and you're only telling me this now?" He got up from the couch.

"I know! I know, I shouldn't have kept it a secret. I don't want it to be a secret anymore – I can't take it. I want us to talk about it."

He turned his back towards me and was silent for a moment. A hand ran through his hair before he turned around. His golden face looked paler, his eyebrows were pinched together in both anger and confusion. "What's there to talk about? You've obviously already made your decision. You want to go."

"I didn't say that!" I argued.

"Duo, you've had months to think about this offer. Don't try to tell me that all this time you haven't given it any thought, and you haven't realized your feelings by now. You've had _plenty_ of time to figure out which way you lean. If it had turned out that you didn't want to go back, you wouldn't be telling me this now. If you were happy and content here, you would've forgotten about it. The fact that you're telling me means that you want to go."

I couldn't deny his logic. I sat there, quietly praying to myself that he would understand that it didn't mean that I loved him any less.

He laughed nervously. "Well, we might as well start packing up your stuff."

"Heero… If you ask me to stay, I'll stay."

He let out a snort. "You know very well I'm not going to ask you to stay. What kind of person would I be if I took this away from you?" He shook his head adamantly. "No, in fact, I'm telling you – I'm _telling_ you – you need to go. You _will_ go. To be offered that scholarship is an amazing honor and a huge opportunity. It's what you always wanted, and it proves something I've always known but you've always doubted. I'm not going to let you doubt that any longer; you are a great artist and you deserve this second chance." His voice was shaking as he rambled on. "Your dad, he-… he took that chance away from you… I would never-… I would never." He shrugged helplessly at not being able to find the right words and he was embarrassed by his emotions. He covered his mouth with his hand to hide his trembling bottom lip and he bowed his head, casting his gaze down to the floor to give himself a moment to compose himself.

I knew he didn't want me to comfort him in that moment; he wanted to pretend that he was not on the verge of tears, and he needed me to pretend I didn't notice. Even though I ached to get up and envelop him with my arms, I didn't move from the couch.

I said calmly: "But if my dad had let me go to art school, I would have never met you." My breath hitched, and with a bittersweet smile, I took a moment to keep my own cool. Then I continued: "What if me going to art school now means missing out on something else? Something amazing? Something between us?" He still couldn't look at me but I could tell my words hit home. "Not going to art school four years ago led to me meeting you, befriending you, and falling in love with you. I wouldn't want to go back in time to trade that now. I'm so happy with how things turned out.

"I'm scared that going back to The Art Institute will stand in the way of us being together – that it might ruin us. It'd kind of be like going back in time and changing things: getting to go to art school, but not getting to be with you."

Heero took a deep, steadying breath and met my gaze again. "You love me, right?"

I inched to the edge of my seat, ready to jump up and leap towards him to press him against me in a tight embrace. "Of course. Baby, I love you so much," I said breathlessly.

"And I love you. We just have to trust that being apart won't ruin that; that what we feel for each other is stronger than that."

"Those hundred days were horrible," I reminded him, before he would agree to something he would instantly regret. "It's going to be like that, maybe even worse."

"We can do it," he asserted. "That letter you wrote me, after 'video-gate' – the letter you asked Trowa to give me?"

I nodded. The letter in which I confessed my feelings for him… the letter that was framed on his night stand.

"You wrote: 'If we're brave, we can make this work'," he said poignantly. "And we did make it work, and there is no shame in having to 'work' at it. We just have to be brave again."

That was when I decided I couldn't stay put any longer – I rushed towards him and wrapped my arms around him, dipping my head to press my nose into the crook of his neck. "I love you so much." He twisted his fingers into the shirt on my back, squeezing me to him. "I'm sorry for keeping this a secret and springing it on you like this," I muttered into his neck. "I don't like not being honest and completely open with you. I don't know what I was thinking. I guess we both just desperately wanted to live up to expectations."

I kissed the corner of his jaw, then his cheek and then moved my lips to his mouth. It was a simple kiss, yet the most intimate kiss we had shared in a while, without the emotional distance between us. He moved his hands to cup my face and darted his tongue out in a challenge to deepen the kiss. I suspected that he could feel as well that a weight had been lifted off us, even though we had hard times ahead. I was so grateful for his understanding, and I was reminded that – before he was my lover – he was my best friend, and he just wanted the best for me, even when that meant we wouldn't be together physically. I could always count on him to support my art.

"Will you let me make love to you?" I asked.

He nodded and caught my bottom lip with his teeth for a second. His arms encircled my neck and I lifted him up and walked back to the couch where I sat down with him in my lap. Before long we were undressed, but not fully because we were too impatient: Heero's open button-up was still hanging off his shoulders, and I didn't bother with taking off my jeans; I simply opened the fly up as much as it could.

We moaned in unison when he impaled himself on me and we settled on a slow rhythm. Heero rolled his hips and I pushed off the couch cushion only slightly. We didn't need much more than that; we were more focused on our kiss, parting only to breathe or kiss each other's faces. I had one hand on the small of his back in the sexy arch, and the other was on the back of his head. Heero had both his hands buried in my hair and wasn't shy about ravishing my mouth and angling my face as needed.

As we both got close to our imminent release, he pressed his cheek to mine, not able to maintain the sensual kisses any longer; his gasps and whimpers were puffs of hot air in my ear. I reached between us and with a light touch of my fingers, I brought him over the edge and he took me with him. His cry was painfully loud in my ear, yet I still managed to drown him out with my own shout.

Heero sagged forward against me, powerless in the aftermath. Although we were a sweaty, tangled mess, I didn't mind in the least and enjoyed getting to stay inside him, when he was usually fast to tell me to get out so he could clean up.

He turned his head slightly, resting one cheek on my shoulder so he could look at me. "I haven't congratulated yet." I chuckled softly. "Congratulations," he whispered, being serious. "I'm really happy for you. And I'm proud of you."

"I'm not Picasso," I retorted, "Pereira said I still have a long way to go."

"And you'll go all the way."

The smile that lingered on my face brightened even more. "Thanks. For believing in me. And for believing in us."

He pressed his hot lips against my shoulder and the simple kiss set my heart alight. "Just don't hold it against it me if I have days when I'll regret ever letting you leave."

I chuckled at his dry tone. "It's definitely going to suck at times."

"There are going to be some lonely nights, and I might say something selfish or passive-aggressive… I might send a shitty email or something… but I don't want you to pay attention to that or think it means you need to get your ass back here, okay? It'll just be me having a mood."

"Okay. But if you do really want me to come back, I need you to tell me, because I will come back."

He nodded in silent agreement and his eyes slipped shut.

"We should probably get you a new D," I teased to lighten the atmosphere. We had ceremoniously dumped the previous vibrator after using it on my first day in Seattle.

Heero merely groaned in response to my joke. As soon as we disentangled, I swept him off his feet, ignoring his protests, and carried him to the bedroom. I placed him on the bed and fetched a warm, wet cloth to lovingly clean his skin. After quickly cleaning myself up as well, I crawled into bed with him.

I slept easier that night. A weight had been lifted from me. I knew it wasn't going to be easy to being away from him again, but he gave me confidence that we could make it work. If he loved me enough to let me go – to let me do this in pursuit of my dreams – it meant that he really loved me and I knew I really loved him. Feeling as strongly about each other as we did meant that our relationship was more resilient than I had previously given it credit for. Worrying about what we could and couldn't handle as a couple has actually been the only thing that had threatened our relationship these past few months. We both let ourselves obsess over it and got so preoccupied with trying to be the person we thought the other wanted us to be, that we forgot to be ourselves: the person the other actually fell in love with to begin with.

When I woke up in the morning, for a moment I thought I was alone again and my stomach churned a little; but then I heard the whir of the blender and was happy to realize it was a Sunday: Heero was home, making his morning fruit smoothie. I picked a pair of boxers and sweatpants out of the drawer and slipped on a vest as I stepped out of the bedroom, not bothering to zip it up. I rounded the corner and took a moment to observe my boyfriend, pouring a muted red, thick liquid from the blender into a big glass. I thought for sure he hadn't noticed my presence, but without ever turning to face me he purred: "Good morning."

I smirked. "Hmmm. Good morning."

He turned around and leaned the small of his back against the edge of the kitchen counter. He took a sip of the big smoothie. "Coffee?" Without waiting for a reply, he pressed the silver button at the top of the coffee machine and the thing hummed to life. I preferred to get my morning dose of caffeine from the coffee shop, but I didn't want to leave the apartment, so I happily made do with home-made.

The machine finished producing the black liquid and poured into the awaiting cup. Heero held it out to me; I closed the distance between us. I took the cup from him while smoothly leaning in to plant a kiss on the corner of his mouth. Then I positioned myself next to him at the counter, standing shoulder to shoulder with him.

Heero was in his winter running gear: skintight black tights with streamlined, reflective silver piping, and an oversized, grey hoodie. He didn't run as much as he used to, but he was still in excellent shape – the vegetarian diet probably helped with that.

"So about last night," I started carefully. He slightly turned his head to indicate he was listening, but didn't quite face me as he kept sipping at his smoothie, "no regrets?"

He cast his gaze up at me. "No."

"So I should email Professor Pereira?"

"Yes. I want you to do this. I want you to be happy. I thought just having you here would make me happy, but I've realized I'm not happy if you're not happy."

I draped ab arm over his shoulder and leaned my head towards him. "It's not like I'm _unhappy_ here."

"But you're not really happy here either. You're not yourself here," he said. "I need you to be yourself…" He tilted his head up, revealing a small grin. "I kind of love you as yourself, you know?"

"Hmmm," I leaned in for another kiss. "What did I ever do to deserve you?"

"Who said you deserve me?" He bantered. "Boy, you got lucky." When he walked away to head for the shower I reached out and pinched one ass cheek. He swatted my hand away and let out a laugh.

That same day I typed up my email response to Professor Pereira, finally saying 'yes' to the offer, but I didn't send the email before I once more assured that Heero was ready for this challenge. When he repeated the words I needed to hear, I pressed 'send'. My palms were clammy; I was as excited as I was anxious, but I was done worrying about it – that demanded too much brain space. Neither of us should have to feel guilty about pursuing our dreams. Of course we had ambitions beyond our relationship: just like Heero shouldn't have to feel guilty about working overtime, I shouldn't have to feel guilty about investing in my art.

There was no awkwardness or resentment between us and I was grateful. We enjoyed the time we got to spend together, even more so because the moments were few and far between and I would have to leave soon.

Pereira sent me an excited email back the same day. He stated that he would complete my application on my behalf and get back to me on the details later. A week later, I got another longer email and everything became concrete. My application was accepted; a full scholarship – tuition and board – for the two-year program. Included in the email was a sign-up form for the electives, with a maximum of three electives every semester. I toyed with the idea of not signing up for the electives – to free up some time to head back and forth between Columbus and Seattle – but Heero would have none of it; he helped me pick out three electives for the first two semesters.

I was expected to be back at the institute on the twenty-fifth of February to pick up the books and materials needed for my classes, my roster, and get a dorm-room assigned to me. I didn't look forward to living in a dorm, but it was fully paid for by the scholarship so I wouldn't have to work much to earn extra money; hopefully that meant I could fly out to Seattle at least once or twice every couple of months. Heero and I made jokes about what my roommate would be like and he playfully warned me not to get any bright ideas, like my friends-with-benefits master plan.

As well as things were going between us, I couldn't deny that I felt the twenty-fifth of February creep closer and closer. I felt like that little kid again, being sent off to fat camp, knowing I'd miss my nanny so much that I'd lose sleep over it – God knew I never spent enough time with either of my parents to ever miss them when they weren't around.

As the days of February got scratched off the calendar, I knew I wanted to do something memorable on the twenty-fourth, before I flew back to Columbus the next morning. Unfortunately, Heero couldn't entirely get out of going to work that day, but he managed to get home at three in the afternoon so we could still spend some quality time together. He had probably expected to spend the entirety of the rest of the day in bed, getting fucked silly, but I planned to save that for a little later. When he arrived home, I told him to change into something casual so we could go downtown. He emerged from the bedroom ten minutes later dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, and sporting a confused frown.

"I want to get you a present," I informed him as I sat in the passenger seat and told him which turns to take.

"You're the one going away," he stated, "so you should be the one to get a going-away present."

"Oh, I will," I replied, my lips forming a smirk when he shot me a sideway glance. "It'll be a dual purpose gift, I guess. A going-away present for me and a staying-behind present for you."

"Hn. This sounds awfully familiar."

"Oh?"

"This sounds like the same bullshit you fed me at our last Christmas in college. When you got me that first vibrator? And I said I couldn't afford to give you a present and you said something along the lines of: 'If I play my cards right, we'll both get to enjoy this present'."

"I guess I've said too much, now I've ruined the surprise."

"Seriously? Are we really going to waste our last day buying a fucking vibrator?" He sounded more than a little irked.

"It won't be a waste, trust me. We're going to get a new, proper vibrator and make some happy memories with it so you can enjoy yourself until we meet again." I flashed him a cheeky grin.

"Couldn't you have just taken me out to dinner or something?"

"I will. But first: vibrator."

Heero groaned but I wasn't fooled – I knew the idea was titillating to him. His resentment of 'the D' might have been my fault; I had no idea what I was doing when I picked it out and went with the simplest, straightforward model that was very similar to that first toy I got him. Heero would know better what kind of toy would feel nice for him.

We arrived at our destination: a sizable sex-toy shop just outside of the shopping district. I headed inside, only to realize Heero wasn't following me; I walked back and with a chuckle, dragged him along.

"Duo, don't – this is embarrassing," he hissed, trying to free his hand from my grip as I searched for the appropriate aisle.

"There's no need for you to be embarrassed, babe. Everybody has sex and everybody masturbates."

"Yeah, but not every guy- Oh my God!" Suddenly he stopped dead in his tracks and I couldn't tug him from his spot – confirming my suspicion that he wasn't putting up that much of a fight to begin with. He had his face turned away, but I could still see his wide, shocked eyes and the bright red on his cheeks.

"What?" I asked with a chuckle and laughed even harder when he meekly pointed up ahead. I spun around and tried to find the item that had shocked him so much. There was so much stuff on the walls, I didn't think I would ever pinpoint it, until I saw it and I knew that had to be it. Propped up on a shelf was a black dildo the size and width of my entire forearm, the head of the dong as big a man's clenched fist. "Oh, Heero, I think our search is over. Let's find the clerk and ask her to wrap it up," I joked.

"Don't you fucking dare, Maxwell." He slowly turned back around and regarded the enormous toy with apparent disgust and fear. He almost couldn't look directly at it, it was making him uncomfortable.

"Well, it's about the size of a fist. You've heard of fisting, right?"

"What do you mean?"

" _Fisting_?" I quirked a bemused eyebrow at him.

"That's slang for regular masturbating, right? Because you-…" He formed a fist with his hand but with a tunnel between the fingers to fit an erection. "Because you fuck your own fist."

I smiled and leaned in for a kiss. "You don't watch a lot of gay porn, do you?"

"I watch some," he defended, as if my question was a slight to him. "I'm just not that interested in watching other guys fuck."

"What kind of porn do you watch?"

"Usually…" He fell silent when another customer walked by us. "Usually solo-stuff. With guys that kind of… look like you, I guess." He made a face. "Why is this even relevant?"

I shook my head. "Never mind. You're just too cute."

"Don't call me that," he muttered and let me guide him into the appropriate aisle. "Oh my God, I think I just figured out what 'fisting' is…" he muttered to himself.

I laughed again and urged him to pay attention to the task at hand. I nodded at the shelves of toys in front of us; all shapes and sizes, colors and materials. "Which one do you think you'd like?"

"Look, anything will be fine," he said in an attempt to hurry the process along. "It won't be as good as the real thing anyway."

"Aww, baby, you flatter me." I avoided his punch to my shoulder and was about to focus his attention on the wall of sex toys again when a store clerk approached us and Heero visibly shrank beside me, knowing I wasn't going to spare him any embarrassment.

"Hey guys," she greeted. "Need any help?"

"No," said Heero at exactly the same time as I replied "Yes".

She smiled at us both. "Seems to be a bit of confusion and miscommunication going on here. I hope I can help clear that up. Who are we shopping for?"

"Him," and I elbowed Heero in the side, feeling how tense he was.

"And you're looking to buy a vibrator or a dildo?" She inquired casually, zero judgment or amazement.

"A vibrator."

She nodded. "Will it be your first sex toy?"

Since my boyfriend wasn't going to engage in the conversation, I replied: "No, I bought two for him before, kind of the same type, but I think we need something… different."

"Sure, yeah. So what was the model that you had previously?"

I shrugged. "Err, I don't actually remember the name or anything."

"No, that's not what I mean. What were the specs?" She clarified with an unassuming smile.

"Oh, uhm…" I paused to give Heero time to jump in but he just stared at me, "They were both really simple. Basically just a slim, straightforward rod, tapered at the head, maybe an inch thick? And a twist-end to intensify the vibrations."

"And the material?"

"Plastic. Plain. Smooth."

"Right. Sooo… a basic bitch?"

I laughed at the term. "Yeah."

She moved in front of the shelves, taking a few steps back and then grabbed one of the show-models from a shelf. "Something like this?"

"Yeah, that's pretty much it."

"Okay, so we don't want something like this?"

"No, definitely not."

She put the toy back in its place and scoured the assortment as she continued to ask questions to narrow down the search. I refused to answer, since the whole point was for Heero to find something he'd like, so I kept my mouth shut knowing that the uncomfortable silences will force him to speak up.

To the question of what he didn't like about the other models, he answered with a beet red face: "I didn't like how easily they went in… And I didn't like that they were so smooth, there wasn't any friction."

"Okay, I can work with that. We should probably look at something with some texture and maybe silicone as opposed to plastic." While she reached for some examples Heero shot a glare my way but I simply flashed a grin in return. Unbeknownst to the conflict between us, she showed Heero three different toys, fitting the specifications of not smooth and not plastic. "Do you like it to be more realistic in design or something a bit more abstract?"

"Realistic."

"That's cool," she said offhandedly and put away one of the three she had picked out and replaced it with another, a third realistic one – in shape that is, one was black, one was purple and the third she picked up was pink.

"I don't-… Not that one," he half-pointed at the pink one.

She smiled. "No pink. Got it." She replaced it with another from the shelf, a blue one. "What about the size? And you should consider both the width and the length."

That was when Heero really started to pay attention and he was getting into the process. I simply idled by with a smirk on my face, listening in on the exchange as she helpfully continued to aid him in the search. I wasn't surprised that he expressed a preference to a size that was close to mine – although he didn't reveal that to her of course. In the end she held three different toys that matched Heero's wishes and then explained the different 'mechanical abilities' of the toys and recommended the first two over the third because they had more settings varying not only in the speed and intensity of the vibrations, but also with a range of pulsations. It was down to those two and Heero ended up picking the one that was a little more sizeable than my own member in terms of girth.

"Great, this one it is!" She put the models away and got a new one sealed in the box. "That wasn't so difficult, was it?"

I snickered. "No, it wasn't 'hard' at all."

"We actually have training on our first day to avoid using that word," the clerk responded with a wink. "Was there anything else you were interested in?"

"Well, I was looking around a bit and I think I want one of those," I nodded at an item on a shelf on the other side of the aisle.

"The clear Fleshlight?" She reached for it.

"Yeah. At least-… not to be blunt but, it doesn't look like a vagina, right?"

"Nope, it's just a hole."

"Cool, yeah. I'll take it."

"Excellent! If you'll follow me to the cash register, I'll ring these up."

Heero and I followed her. When we walked, our shoulders brushed together and I could tell he was doing it on purpose. We slowed down our pace to create some distance between us and the enthusiastic clerk and I remarked quietly: "See? That wasn't bad right?"

"Not bad, no. But it is ' _hard_ '," he whispered in response.

I snaked my hand out and inconspicuously touched the front of jeans when I was sure no one was looking. "Wow. Yes it is." I smirked at him.

"Would you like me to gift-wrap these?" The clerk asked from behind the counter.

"No thanks." I stepped up to the register to pay for the two items and got them handed to me in a black plastic bag. "Thanks a lot for your help."

"You're welcome. Enjoy." She waved us off with a grin.

Once we were outside the store I reached out and ruffled his hair. "You wanna go home and play?" I teased.

"We should probably get something to eat first."

"Let's get it to go."

Heero agreed with that suggestion, so we stopped by a drive-thru on the way back to our apartment and picked up an abundance of greasy food – and a salad for Heero. We ate most of it in the car, laughing at our equally obvious eagerness. Heero wolfed down his salad at every red light that obstructed our path and on the home-stretch I fed him French fries.

"We should relax," I said as he pulled the car to the curb. "We have to take our time. I intend to pound you so thoroughly you are going to feel it for the next two years," I bantered.

We headed inside and groped each other in the elevator, more teasing pinches than anything else. His mouth tasted of lemon ice tea, the drink he had ordered with his meal. When he kissed me back I could feel that his lips were formed into a smile. Once inside the apartment he was all over me, kissing me greedily and starting to unbutton my jeans. The haste was similar to what we felt when I first arrived in Seattle.

"Our little shopping trip really got you riled up, huh?"

"It's all your fault. You better make it right," he mumbled accusingly against my lips.

I stopped his hand from opening up my fly and pushed him back slightly. "Go freshen up," I instructed, knowing he would know what I meant. I dipped my head down and purred into his ear: "I'm going to fuck you, suck you, and lick you all over."

He swallowed audibly in anticipation. His face was a bright red but I knew it was the kind of embarrassment that prickled him in a good way. He nodded and left for the bathroom, locking the door behind him. He didn't always clean beforehand and I didn't mind the risk of a bit of mess in those spontaneous moments. It was never to an extent that it was off-putting, but sometimes I liked it when we took the time – or rather, made the time – to do things proper.

I went into the bedroom and unpackaged and prepared one of our new toys. The purchase I had made for myself was tossed into my suitcase – I'd save that experience for when I was alone. At the moment I was too focused on him to be interested in it anyway.

While I waited, I dressed myself down to my underwear and redid my braid, which was starting to come apart as it always did near the end of a regular day's wear. I tossed the extra pillows off the bed and straightened out the sheets. I got hard again contemplating all the things I wanted to do to him and it was a battle of will to not touch myself.

The bathroom door opened and Heero stepped out with nothing but a towel hanging loosely off his hips. He looked somewhat flustered. I understood it'd be awkward and uncomfortable, but we both agreed it was worth the extra effort.

I smiled at him, to put him at ease. "Hey, baby. Ready?" Heero nodded but was rooted in place by the doorway.

I was sympathetic to the fact that he needed a moment to distance himself from the clinical aspect of it and get back in the mood. "You know what? I'm going to take a shower first," I said. I approached him and with my hands on his shoulders I directed him to sit on the edge of the bed. "You relax for a minute, okay?" He nodded again and I tousled his hair.

It was my turn to occupy the bathroom, but I left the door wide open and didn't close the frosted glass door to the shower stall. From where I had strategically placed him on the bed, I knew he could see me, but I pretended that none of it was on purpose and that I was unaware. Without glancing out the door even once, I stripped down naked and stepped under the hot spray of water. My braid would get wet, but it didn't matter to me much. I only hated going to bed with wet hair because the braided rope would make a damp spot on the bed that was uncomfortable for either of us to lie in, but we wouldn't be sleeping anytime soon anyway.

I made a show of soaping up my body and rinsing off the suds, running my hands up and down my naked body and occasionally stroking a fist down my half-hard dick. My fingers idly traced the shapes of my abs, pleased that I was still in good shape too. It pleased Heero as well. When my body heated up too intensely, I twisted the thermostat on the shower and briefly doused myself with cold water. Then I turned off the water and got out of the stall. I dried myself off with a towel, still in my boyfriend's line of sight. I used the mirror above the sink to sneak a peek at him and bit back a moan at the sight of him. He had eased himself back on one elbow, had opened up the towel that covered him before and was languidly stroking his erection. His gaze was fixated on me.

When we made eye-contact in the reflection my game of pretense was up. I smirked at him. "You want me, baby?"

He rolled his head back. "Fuck yeah," he ground out.

I squeezed as much water from my braid as I could and then joined him the bedroom, naked and unabashed. The way he watched my every move as I stalked towards him was thrilling. I lowered myself onto my knees between his spread legs and firmly placed my big hands on his thighs, spreading them a few inches more.

He let go of his manhood and I was quick to replace his grip with my own, forming my first around the base. My thumb was poised over the pulsing vein running up the underside. With a splayed hand on his abdomen I urged him to lay back and then let the hand wander further up his torso. I ran my rough palm over his pert nipples; Heero let out a pleasant sigh, but the sound morphed into a tormented moan when I dragged my tongue over the head of his erection without warning.

I knew he needed release if I wanted to have all the time in the world to have my wicked way with him, so I welcomed him into my mouth and treated him to what I hoped would be the best blowjob yet, applying every trick we had discovered and learned together. Sometimes it still shocked me how long it had taken me to figure out I was into men – into Heero specifically. Performing oral sex on him was such an intense, intimate pleasure.

We've had discussions about our transition from a heterosexual sex-life to a homosexual sex-life and how things weren't 'as different' for me as the dominant, giving partner, but that observation neglected to take into account just how much I loved having his cock as part of the play. I had always been pretty content with my female partners, but after taking that leap with Heero, I couldn't imagine ever fully being satisfied with sex without 'the other dick'. I loved having him in my mouth, hearing and feeling him respond to me. And when I fucked him it was a thrill to have his manhood in my hand, or watch him jerk himself off. The greatest turn-on of all was watching him come, seeing those ribbons of milky white semen on his golden skin and those last pearls dripping from the reddened, hypersensitive head. Part of the fun was knowing exactly what it felt like.

Intent on getting him off swiftly so we could move on to phase two, I moved my head up and down rapidly, sucking hard on him and applying the right amount of pressure with my tongue.

Heero, unaware of my plan, warned me through gritted teeth: "Duo, wait… Uhh… I'm so close. I'm so close…"

I moaned around him.

"Fuck, I'm not joking! Ahh! I'm gonna-" He didn't even get to finish his sentence. His tossed his head back and arched his back off the bed. Fingers twisted into my hair, holding me in place as he spilled his passion on my tongue.

With a sense of accomplishment, I bobbed my head up and down a few more times once his grip on my head loosened, then released him from my mouth. The member fell back onto his taut abdomen; I treated the head to a few more licks before crawling up his body to share his taste with him in a deep kiss.

"Hmmm… Fuck… Don't tell me I cleaned my ass for nothing…"

I chuckled breathily. "Don't worry. This was just to ensure you'd make it through what I plan to do to you." I straightened up and instructed him to move up to the center of the bed and lay down on his stomach.

He groaned as he moved, but did as he was told.

The new toy and the lube were both on the nightstand. I grabbed them and put them on the mattress before situating myself between his legs. I had him angle his hips, exposing himself to me. I bent forward and rained light kisses on both smooth cheeks and his perineum. He breathed heavily and at times let out a soft gasp.

"You comfortable?"

"Hmmm…"

"Don't fall asleep."

He chuckled. "I won't."

"No, you won't." I spread his ass cheeks and ran my pointed tongue up to his opening. Rimming wasn't something we used to do, but ever since trying it first a couple of months ago, it was apparent we both liked it. We didn't do it often and of course we only did it when he was clean. He objected to the idea at first, but for me it was no different than performing oral sex on a girl – actually that got messier, with all the extra bodily fluids.

Some days I just felt like worshipping him like that and I liked there was no level of intimacy left unexplored between us – we had done it all. He had even topped me, twice. It was nice, and a good experience, if only because it reaffirmed to both of us that we had already found the best way for us to be together sexually: I preferred being the dominant one, and he preferred being the receiving partner – were a good match. I liked worshipping him with my mouth and my fingers, drawing all kinds of different sounds from him; he found the ultimate release in letting go of his control and letting himself be overwhelmed.

I alternated my tongue with my fingers, making sure to take my time. Heero rocked his pelvis into the mattress, getting hard again and seeking friction.

"Wanna meet your new friend?" I bantered.

He moaned in response.

I sat up and poured lube onto the silicone toy. "We should probably name him."

"Not this again," he groused into the pillow.

"Something manly and sexy…" I mused aloud. "Like Jack. Good ol' Jack." I pumped my closed fist over the vibrator to spread the lube, feeling the exaggerated veins and the thick head. "Or Ben. Bens are trustworthy – I bet you could always count on a Ben to fuck you when you need it." I ran it through his cleft, with no intention of giving it to him yet.

"You're a fucking weirdo, Maxwell."

"Hn, maybe Max? Nah, that sounds like a dog's name. Hmmm…" I pondered the options while pushing the bulbous head against the awaiting opening, trusting the anticipation would drive my lover mad. "What about Leo? A feral, doggy-style fuck comes to mind… You like doggy-style right, baby?"

Heero sank his teeth into the pillow but managed: "I hate you so much right now." He pushed back against the toy, but unlike 'the D' it wouldn't slip inside him quite so easily, not until I decided to push it in.

"Joshua?" I studied the midnight blue toy. "Nah, Nash's twin brother is a Joshua. That's not right. I keep circling back to Chad or Todd, but for some reason I picture muscle-guys with steroid-shrinkage. I bet a Chad or a Todd would give up a bicep for a cock like this." I added a little more pressure, but still not enough to stretch him open. Finally, I decided: "Hmmm. Luke. Yeah, this definitely seems like the cock of a Luke. The kind of Luke that wears flannel shirts, builds his own cabin and can fuck you all night."

"Great, now that the introductions are out of the way, let's skip the flannel and the cabin-building part and go straight to fucking all night," Heero ground out.

"But what if Luke wants to tease you a little more?"

"Nnn… I don't think Luke is the type for teasing. He'd just pound into me."

"You're probably right." Tightening my grip on the end of the toy I pushed harder and watched the thick, blunt head stretch the opening and be welcomed inside.

"Ahhh… Fuck yeah…"

I didn't give him any time to adjust and inched the toy all the way into him, going in slow so he could appreciate every swollen vein, and so I wouldn't hurt him. Less than an inch was left sticking out of him, only enough so I could control the settings. It was measurably bigger than me, though not extremely so; still, it was the biggest he ever had. I kissed his ass cheeks and fondled his balls; the toy was undisturbed so he could properly enjoy it. And he clearly was enjoying it, moaning senselessly and clenching his muscles around it.

"Do you like Luke?" I asked after a moment.

"Yeah," he whimpered pathetically in response. "Luke is good."

I crawled over him, covering my body with his. I rocked against him – luckily Luke's base had no sharp edges or I would have hurt myself – causing the toy to move ever so slightly; that was enough to elicit more wonderful moans and gasps.

"I want you to think about this moment whenever you use it. About having just come in my mouth. About my tongue wetting your hole. About my fingers massaging your prostate. About this toy stretching you for the very first time…"

"I'm still going to miss you."

I kissed his neck. "I'm going to miss you too. So fucking much. But it's not going to be like before. Let's promise each other that. Not another one hundred days like that."

"Uhh, I promise. I promise."

"And I promise you too." I reached down and blindly pressed the biggest button on the toy, having familiarized myself with the functions and buttons while he was in the bathroom. 'Luke' buzzed to life with intense, pulsating vibrations.

Heero released a drawn out moan and bucked against the mattress. I kissed and licked my way back down his spine. I worked the toy in and out of him while fiddling with the settings. I set it to a powerful on-and-off rhythm of vibrations and fucked him with it with a matching pace, synchronizing the inward thrusts with the onset of the vibrations, enhancing the sensation of the penetration and the friction of the long shaft. I freed up my other hand and used it to pleasure myself.

"Can you come like this?" I needlessly asked. It was readily apparent he was close to another orgasm.

"Yes!"

Encouraged I continued doing what I was doing but he reached a hand behind his back and grabbed my wrist, immobilizing my hand.

"Please… Finish me off with your cock."

I nodded stupidly and retracted the toy, thinking to switch it off before tossing it aside and effortlessly replacing it. His channel was slick with an excess of lube and perfectly stretched to be fucked hard. I didn't have to hold back out of concern of hurting him. I maneuvered myself up on my knees, pulling him up on all fours, and thrusted into him with wild abandon. All the right sounds poured from his lips, drowning out the noise of our flesh slapping together.

I put my arm around his waist and straightened him up. He cocked his head, looking back at me over his shoulder with clouded eyes. All I wanted to do in that moment was kiss him, so I did. I paused the movements of my hips so I could fully focus on the passionate kiss. My erection throbbed inside him, but I ignored it for as long as I could.

Eventually, Heero toppled forward and dragged me down with him. We ended up on our sides – me behind him. The mood changed and I made love to him slowly as he crooned my name. I had my arms wrapped around him: one hand was splayed on his midriff, feeling both the tension in his obsession as well as his sharp breath; the fingers of the other absentmindedly toyed with a nipple.

My lover mewled: "I can't-…! I can't-…! Nnn… Ahh!" He spilled his semen onto the sheets, untouched, the way he did the very first time we had sex, and rarely after that.

I changed up our position again, rolling him onto his back and settling between his thighs. He hooked his ankles behind my back and watched my face intently, able to focus on the expression of pleasure on my features in the aftermath of his orgasm. He alternated clenching and relaxing the intimate muscles that gripped me. With a shuddering exhale and a soundless moan, I climaxed. It was so intense that tears prickled in the corner of my eyes. I bit into his shoulder and dug my fingernails into his hip. "Oh, fuck…! Oh, God…" I let out a breathy chuckle. "Was that good?"

Heero turned his head and beckoned me to kiss him. Who was I to refuse? We engaged in a lengthy, lazy kiss.

Once satisfied I pulled back and I rolled him onto his stomach and crawled down his body. Licking him clean was so much better than having him leave the bed right after sex; I wanted to keep him close. My boyfriend mewled into the pillow. I kissed my way up his spine and nuzzled my nose into his hair, inhaling the smell like a drug, which it might as well have been, considering what it did to me. Riding the most pleasant high, I settled beside him and greedily gathered him in my arms. Reluctantly he faced me, his cheeks a bright red and he chuckled sheepishly at his own embarrassment.

"I'm going to miss you," I said, even though I didn't really want to bring up the fact that I was leaving the next day; I didn't want to think about it and I suspected he didn't either. But it had to be said. I felt it so strongly, it had to be said. When he remained silent I teased: "Aren't you going to miss me?"

He grinned. "Meh. I have Luke now." He laughed when I pinched his nipple as punishment and tried to fight me off but I wouldn't let go of him.

We slept for about an hour and then he helped me finish packing the few things that I had.

We said our goodbyes the next morning before he left for work. He claimed he couldn't get the time off to take me to the airport, but I knew he just didn't want to see me off and it was for the better. I didn't think I'd be able to go if I had to walk away while he watched me leave. It was better this way, with him going out the front door and off the work, like he had about every day since I arrived in Seattle months ago. It felt more normal, not as loaded. Still though, I stared at that closed door for a minute or two after he had gone. I was seriously considering unpacking my suitcase and staying right where I was, surprising him with a home-cooked meal when he came home from work. But it wasn't the right thing to do – as tempting as it felt. It would just take us back to where we had been – and it was not a good place – with not a good outlook for the long term. Sometimes, you have to make the hard decisions.

A cab took me back to the airport and after a two-hour delay, I was in the air, on my way back to Columbus. At some point midway I felt a shift: I felt myself detaching from Seattle, like the elastic that tied me there snapped, and just like that, it wasn't home anymore. It wasn't 'our apartment' anymore.

Seattle was 'Heero's place', and Columbus was 'my place' again; my home.

As much as that rang true, it didn't change how I felt about Heero, nor how I felt about our relationship. We could do this. We could keep loving each other, even while we were apart. It would be difficult for us both, but we could handle it.

I arrived back at The Art Institute and was assigned my dorm room. My roommate was a soft-spoken guy studying fashion design. He let me know right off the bat that he wouldn't be around much; most nights he spent at his boyfriend's place. That was perfectly fine with me. For that reason, he offered me the top bunk and I smiled as I was reminded of how Heero and I would fight at the start of every academic year to claim the top bed. Those memories made me all the more confident that our relationship was strong enough to make it through this long-distance ordeal.

After a late, take-out dinner, I planted my ass in the desk chair and waited for Heero to call me. I asked him to call as soon as he got home, knowing it would be a lonely and miserable moment for him and he'd need some support. As I waited I produced my sketchbook from the drawer I had placed it in. With the set of quality pencils that were part of my Christmas gift, for the first time in a long time, I started to draw again.

I completely lost track of time; when my phone rang I was shocked to see it was nearly one thirty AM – and realized my roommate really wasn't lying when he said he would be spending most nights with his boyfriend. I did the math to figure out what time it was in Heero's time zone. I answered the call with: "Hey, cuddle bear."

"Hey." He sounded decidedly less chipper than me, but tried to hide it.

"Did you just come home?"

"No… Maybe-… half an hour ago."

I toyed with the aquamarine pencil in my hand. "Why didn't you call right away?" The note I left in the apartment had specifically asked him to do so. But politely. With a wink.

"It was weird coming home to an empty place," he admitted. "I guess I just needed a moment."

I nodded sympathetically. "I get it. It's weird here too."

Heero sighed. "I forgot how different your voice sounds over the phone."

I let out a laugh but then it hit me it might not have been a lighthearted joke, but hinted at a more serious issue. Was he already regretting this decision? "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"It's quite the adjustment, huh?"

He chuckled bitterly. "Yeah, definitely."

"It's going to be different this time, Heero," I assured him. "It's not going to be like before. I think last time we got complacent because we kept telling ourselves it was only for one summer anyway, so we kept skipping weekends. We know it's going to be longer now, and I think that is actually going to be different in a good way; we know damn well we shouldn't cancel our weekends together."

"But what if things get in the way again? Work. School," he countered.

"It doesn't matter, even if you have to work a weekend, I'm still going to come over. At least we'll have the evenings and nights together. And if I have to stay here to finish a project, you should just come too. Every hour we manage to steal will be worth it."

"You're right." He sounded more optimistic.

I was glad to have been able to make him feel better. I didn't doubt there would be days when he would have to return the favor and keep me from dropping everything and moving back to Seattle, but that was part of what would make this long-distance-relationship work: us reminding each other that being apart didn't take away from our love for each other. We both had things we needed to do, people we needed to become. We were still young – there was a lot of personal growth ahead of us and if we didn't allow each other that growth, then it would be the thing that could break us.

During those four years in college, we had the luxury of growing up together and changing each other for the better. Our roots were inextricably woven together; just because our branches reached outward in different directions didn't mean we were ever really apart.

"Have you eaten yet?" I asked, to pull me from my own musings and keep me present in the conversation.

He chuckled. "Yes, Mom. Mel had pizzas delivered to the office. And we had a little going-away party for Franco – he's leaving our team two weeks early because the funding for his next project came through sooner than anticipated."

"It must be a relief that he's finally gone."

"It is, but things have been better ever since that 'thing' at the bar anyway."

I smiled, relieved that I hadn't fucked things up for him. I hoped the atmosphere in the workplace would further improve now that Franco was gone and Heero would get new and exciting opportunities within the team and the company, if he was able to get out of his shell a bit and stand up to Kovalyov's slave-driving-ways.

We talked for a little longer, in spite of the fact that we didn't really have much to say after only one day apart, but it was good to hear his voice and make him laugh, even if it was that tired laugh that he always had at the end of a trying day.

Before we said our goodbyes, I reminded him: "I'll see you in two weeks. I already booked my flight."

"Good."

"Until then, say hi to Luke for me, would you?"

He chuckled breathily into the receiver. "I will."

"Goodnight, Heero."

"Goodnight, Duo," he purred.

I went to bed that night feeling happy and at peace.

School was like an explosion of colors in my brain. It was a demanding investment of time and effort, but I was never short of drive nor inspiration. As promised, Heero and I had our weekends together every two weeks, even when we didn't have the weekend off. I didn't work, Heero funded the travel costs.

Mostly I went back to Seattle since we had the big apartment there, and my roommate broke up with his boyfriend so he was home all the time. I'd pack my suitcase with my art supplies and work on my assignments during the day when Heero was required to be at work anyway. The evenings were spent curling up on the couch together. The nights were spent making love. In the morning on Sundays we went for a run – only three miles; that was as far as I could manage. And we usually ended by sharing either the shower or the bathtub on lazy Sunday afternoons, before I would fly back to Columbus.

We never cancelled. Not even once. Not even when it was more convenient. Not even when Heero came to Columbus and we had to rent a hotel room to have some privacy; he had to spend most of the day wandering through the city while I was taking extra classes or going on a mandatory excursion.

Due to the intensive nature of the two-year program, I didn't have much of a summer vacation, only two weeks completely free from classes. The rest of the summer I had classes three or four days a week, but we made good use of the extra time. Then it was back to one weekend every two weeks and time flew by.

100 days – Heero was promoted.

Another 100 days – We went to Trowa's and Quatre's wedding in France.

Another 100 days – I sold my first work of art at a public art exposition.

Another 100 days – I was offered not one, not two, but a choice of three different jobs pending graduation.

It was amazing yet scary at the same time. My plan had been to return to Seattle after graduating; as well as things had worked out for us in this long-distance-relationship, it was never supposed to be a permanent arrangement.

Another hundred days – Heero cancelled for the first time.

I was supposed to fly to Seattle, but he told me not to and left no room for argument. He wouldn't tell me why and I felt sick to my stomach. He had sounded very excited about the career-opportunities that were offered to me, but maybe I shouldn't have told him after all. It seemed he began to worry about the same thing me: he was building a life in Seattle, and I was building a life in Columbus.

Will our two lives ever meet again?

That next Wednesday I was in class, but I couldn't focus. I held my phone under my desk and kept staring at his last message: his response to me trying to convince him I should come over for the weekend anyway.

 _Don't come._

 _I'm serious._

Every time I read the curt words, a shiver ran down my spine. Had I stretched it too far? I searched my memories, trying to remember when there could have been a moment that something had changed – that he was no longer happy, that he couldn't take it any longer.

I couldn't find such a moment. Heero was a poor liar and an even worse actor, but maybe I just hadn't been paying attention? But I had!... Hadn't I?

A new text message was delivered.

 _Are you in class?_

I paused in thought. _Technically_ , was my reply.

 _When do you get off?_

I frowned. _Why?_ As I pressed send I had a quiet panic attack, expecting him to respond along the lines of: _We need to talk_. The dreaded 'we need to talk'. God, how many times had I texted that line to one of my short-lived girlfriends?

 _I need to see you._

My previously quiet panic attack was about to become very loud – right in the middle of the lecture! – when something odd hit me. He needs to _see_ me?

I replied quizzically: _Video call?_

There was a pause; for whatever reason I imagined him shaking his head and laughing at that. He hated video calls, said they were unnecessarily awkward, but he suffered them for my sake because some evenings I just needed to see his face while talking to him over the phone.

 _I'm outside_ , he replied.

I jumped up from my seat and everyone looked at me. "Excuse me, Professor Wendt, I need to go."

She looked genuinely concerned watching me gather my books. "Is something wrong?"

"Yes- No!... God, I hope not," I rambled. With my books in my arms and my empty bag over my shoulder I scurried out of the auditorium.

Outside? That was kind of vague. Outside where? I decided to walk past several side exits and go through the main entrance of the building. The landscaped yard out front was the colorful foreground to the redbrick façade that was prominently featured on every campus-photo.

It was where Heero had come to meet me before. I figured it would be the most logical place for him to be.

Sure enough, there he was – Heero was all about logic, after all. Without any care for my textbooks I dropped them to the ground and raced towards him. Before he could say something that would break my heart, I wrapped my arms around him in the tightest hug. Seeing him in that moment was like seeing him again for the first time after those awful 100 days, but in reality it had only been two-and-a-half weeks since we last saw each other.

When I finally managed to detach myself, I looked him in the eyes and searched for answers. He looked excited and happy and that only puzzled me further. "What are you doing here? Why did you cancel? Why didn't you answer my calls? What's with these cryptic messages?"

He shook his head at my scatter-brained questions. "I wanted to tell you I got another promotion."

"That's… That's great! But I still don't understand…"

"You're looking at the newest senior avionics designer at Blue Avionics." He ceremoniously produced a business card from the breast pocket of his button-up shirt and showed it to me.

"Blue Avionics?" I mumbled. The name sounded familiar, but it was not the name of the company he worked for for the past two years. Then it hit me: it was the company that one of Heero's coworkers mentioned – his old workplace – and it was in…

"Hmhm. It's in Pittburgh. About a three hours' drive from here." I was absolutely stunned and he enjoyed seeing me speechless and shell-shocked. He smugly continued: "And we should go. I've made appointments to look at a couple of apartments in Cambridge, Ohio. It's almost exactly halfway between Columbus and Pittburgh – that is, if you think that's a good idea."

My face split into a smile. "Well, fuck, Heero Yuy, you really are a genius…" But then I punched him in the shoulder. "You asshole, you scared the fuck out of me!"

"I'm sorry, I wanted it to be a surprise," he defended.

"Well, consider me surprised," I breathed, exasperated. I could hardly believe it.

"Consider me bruised," he retorted, rubbing his offended shoulder.

"I'll kiss it better…"

"You should. I left Luke in Seattle – I'm all yours now," Heero teased in response.

"Aww, you guys made such a cute couple. What happened?"

"He wouldn't return my calls."

I scoffed comically. "What a _beeech_." I draped my arm around his neck as we walked off campus. "Hmm, it's going to be a shame that we'll be living together again."

"Oh?"

"I'm going to miss the phone sex."

Heero laughed and pulled me into a kiss. Against my lips he mumbled: "Whatever happened to 'Come back to me; make me whole. I will make love to you properly'?"

I remembered the line from my own letter. "You're right. Getting an apartment together is much better… We get to christen every room in the house, all over again."

* * *

 **Of course it has a sappy happy-ending! When you question these things, it's like you don't know me :P I don't like ending a story on a sour note, even when that might be more realistic. Fanfiction is meant to be a fun escape from the real world and more than ever we need that FUN escape, in my opinion. I don't need to tell you how affected I was hearing about the Orlando shooting, I'm sure you felt the same. I was all the more assured that this sweet ending is totally appropriate.**

 **PRIDE**


End file.
